8. Candy
CHAPTER EIGHT
CANDY
H oly shit. It finally happened. Butch and I banged each other’s brains out.
Shell-shocked, I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Hot water blasts out of the shower nozzle behind me, filling the swanky hotel bathroom with steam. The warm mist slowly clouds the mirror. However, the haze isn’t enough to conceal my flushed face, tousled hair, and puffy lips from the lovemaking I had only a few hours earlier with my biker boy.
I barely recognize the wide-eyed woman smiling back at me with wonder. Then again, I can’t recall a time when I’ve been completely jubilant. I’ve had moments of happiness, but they were fleeting. And I certainly never caught my reflection during one of those few times.
For the first time in my life, I’m giddy, and it has everything to do with the biker on the other side of the bathroom door. The same man who dropped to his knees, begged me to order him around, and fucked me all the ways I wanted until our bodies collapsed in a heap around each other.
I’m not sure what spurred us into action—the details are a little foggy as I search my mind and drift back to the memory .
“Goddamn keycard,” Butch grumbles, struggling to open the hotel door with one hand while holding me around the waist with the other.
I have no clue how we made it to our room, or where we were prior to coming back to the hotel. Doesn’t matter either. All that matters is how close I am to Butch.
Snug against his body, I catch a whiff of his cologne—his natural musk spiced with smoked cloves.
Gaaawd! He’s delicious.
Eager to breathe him in, I bury my nose in the crook of his neck right above his scar. “Mmm, you’re yummy. Can I taste you?”
The keycard slips from Butch’s grip, falling to the floor. He quickly bends to swipe it off the ground, his hold on me tightening, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
He pops back upright like a spring, earnestly fumbling with the lock mechanism. I nibble on his earlobe, quietly laughing at his fervor. Butch groans when I suck on the delicate tissue of his lobe. His rough moan sends a rush of heat between my legs, dampening my thong and slicking my thighs.
“Butch,” I taunt between teasing nips on his neck. “Your pulse is racing. Are you feeling okay?”
The door wildly swings open, hitting the wall with a loud thunk. He yanks us into the room, making me laugh out loud when he kicks it closed and pushes my back against the door.
“Candy…” Butch groans, grinding his pelvis against mine. The hard bulge of his denim-clad cock digs into my stomach, pressed between us.
My lips curl into what I hope is a sultry smirk. I grab the sides of his stubble face in my hands, not aggressively, but enough to get his attention. His gold-flecked, hazel colored eyes search mine intently.
“Nu-uh. Did I say you could pulverize your monster cock against me?”
He responds with a low growl in his chest—he’s flustered and aroused.
Good. I want him wound tight. It makes the sex more intense. And I intend for our first time to be the best damn sex of his life. Mine, too.
It’s taken me a whole-ass year to feel comfortable again in my skin. A year without sex was exactly what I needed to find myself and figure out what I want out of life. As wonderful as my friendship with Butch has been, I’m ready for something more—something deeper.
Last year, there was no way I would’ve made a move on Butch. I had only begun therapy for my past sexual assaults, and I was busy rebuilding trust with the MC family. Learning the guy I’d been crushing hard over liked me back was some twisted irony when I wasn’t in the headspace to be in a relationship.
It hurt my heart resisting a man and life I’d always wanted for myself. But it wouldn’t have been good for my mental health to pursue a relationship I had no business being involved in until I worked on myself.
Like a gentleman, Butch backed off and respected my need to reclaim myself. Instead of being my old man, he became my best friend. He was there for me to rant to, to talk out my feelings when I was having difficulty navigating them, and to be a shoulder for me to cry on when everything was too heavy all at once. Although Butch wasn’t much of a talker, he was a fantastic listener, weighing in where he felt I needed reassurance or guidance.
Butch became my safe person, and it made me want him all the more.
After a year of working with Brandon in therapy and mending bridges with the crew, I found myself again. When Atlas brought me into his office and told me Jo wanted someone to play interference with her sister’s ex and current girlfriend, who were bothering her during the Sacramento case, I didn’t understand why he was talking to me about it. But when he mentioned Jo wanted me to fill the role of troublemaker, I jumped at the opportunity. I was given a chance to prove my worth in the club, and I wouldn’t pass on it for nothing.
Working along with Butch and his tech team, I was doing something I’d been interested in pursuing. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life prior to the case, but after helping the investigation by distracting the prime suspect—mostly with my bitchy attitude—I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
I want to help people, like the guys do in the MC with their security and mercenary assignments. I may not be the run-and-gun type, like most of the crew is, but I can give an impromptu performance and transform myself into anyone to get the results I need.
For years, I pretended to be whoever I needed to be to survive my time with whatever Johns I was forced to service. So, playing a part was second nature to me. If there were future cases requiring someone to go undercover to gather information, I was the woman for the job.
Along with wanting to work more cases with the team, I want to explore a relationship with Butch. Although, I had no clue if he still felt the same until working on the Sacramento case. We were cruising on Butch’s Harley and broke off from Chase and Simone to go solo. We drove an hour and a half to Ocean Beach in San Francisco and walked along the beach.
Butch took my hand, watching me cautiously to see if I would object. Of course, I didn’t. The way his face lit up brighter than the sun when I laced my fingers tightly with his. And those dimples popping out on his stubble-covered cheeks—swoon.
Before riding back to Sacramento, Butch leaned in and placed a tender kiss on my cheek. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but it was the first time in a long time I saw heat in his gaze after he pulled back. It was enough to solidify the fact that he still harbored romantic feelings for me. And it worked as kindling to my fueling desire for him, scorching me to my core.
That was only a few days prior. I want to see if I can open this man up, see if he wants me as much as I want him.
Channeling that same hungry energy, I make a brazen move. One I hope Butch will reciprocate.
Smirking, I slip my hands from his face to his shoulders. With a gentle nudge, I push him back a couple of steps until he’s at arm’s length and release him. Holding his stare, I grab the hemline of my form fitting dress and slowly shimmy it up my body and over my head.
Butch’s eyes darken, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. His hard chest rises and falls quickly with his growing need.
In my sexuality, I’m a secure woman. But watching him drool over me gives me a confidence boost. I place my hands on my hips, straightening my shoulder and pushing out my laced covered tits.
“If you want any of this,” I gesture with one hand down the length of my body, “you’ll have to do more than rub on me like some horny teenager. I want a man who isn’t afraid to beg for what he wants.”
Heat sparks in Butch’s hazel eyes, like he’s excited about the challenge to prove himself to me.
“You deserve a man who will do as you order. Beg, I will.”
With no hesitation, Butch shucks his cut, reaches behind his head to pull his Henley long-sleeved shirt over his head, and sinks to his knees in front of me.
“Goddess,” Butch drawls in a rough voice, his eyes insistent. “I’m yours to command. Take control of me—I yearn for it. Take me however you want, but take me and be mine.”
And just like that, I melt for this man.
“I ask one request. I’m starving for something sweet. Please, may I devour you?”
The way his pleading makes my lady bits quiver, I may come on the spot.
“Give me your mouth,” I demand, yanking his head to the V between my legs.
Butch’s hot breath puffs against my black thong, his fingers digging into my thighs. His nose runs along the thin fabric covering my wet lips. “You smell so good.”
“Yeah, but I taste better. Now eat it.”
A feral snarl vibrates from Butch’s lungs. His fingers grip the edges of my thong, ripping the fabric from my body with a vicious tug. It’s seductively aggressive, sending a fresh wave of wetness to coat my thighs.
I hiss from the bite of the fabric ripping against my skin before Butch’s mouth covers all of me. My head falls back in ecstasy, thumping softly against the door.
Butch’s tongue swipes from entrance to clit and back. “Mmm. My favorite—candied juices.”
“Such a greedy mouth you have,” I purr. “Use it to abuse my pussy.”
He attacks my cunt with his hot, wet mouth—swiping, flicking, sucking the cream from my body like a hungry man. The pleasure is intense, making me mewl loudly.
“Yes,” I pant. “Suck on it harder. Show me how hungry you are.”
Butch throws one of my legs over his shoulder before doing the same with the other, almost like he’s hellbent on demonstrating how big his appetite is. His powerful arms and broad shoulders hold me upright by my thighs. My legs wrap around his head, unwilling to release him. I’m pinned to the door by his mouth, tongue, and teeth.
Sinking into the rapture, I hold on tight to the back of his head, kneading my fingers into his short hair. He works me over, slow and then fast, pushing me closer to the finish. My heartbeat races with each firm pull of his mouth on my oversensitive flesh.
And my oh my, does this man devour. He eats my pussy to the bone.
On the cusp of an intense orgasm, I say the only thing I can to alert him I’m close. “BUTCH!”
With one final, hard suck on my clit, I explode against Butch’s mouth. A scream rips from my lungs as I ride the orgasmic waves on Butch’s tongue, rubbing my sex all over his mouth.
Words of praise pour from my mouth. “Good boy. Good filthy boy.”
And through it all, Butch holds me—lips wet from my arousal and eyes hooded with desire.
The sight of him consumed with lust for me has my insides flaring to life again. This moment with him is delightfully sinful. I want more—crave it.
Pushing my biker’s head away from the junction between my legs, I remove one leg and then the other off his shoulders. Butch looks momentarily sad until I shove him to the ground and straddle his thighs.
Screw the bed. I need to have him inside me—now. Any rug burns accumulated, I’ll wear proudly.
Tugging at his jeans, I’m eager to strip him. Butch helps me shove the denim down his hips. His erection strains against the soft cotton of his boxers, a wet patch on the dark fabric right where the bulbous head of his penis touches.
“You’re wet for me,” I coo with approval, my chest warming at seeing the effect I have on him.
“Yes. Only you do this to me,” Butch husks, pushing his boxers down and releasing his hard dick from its confines. It stands at attention, ready for duty.
I’ve seen his fat cock once over a year ago, and it took everything in me not to jump him on the spot. But tonight, I don’t need to hold back.
“Do I need a condom?” Butch asks, his eyes glued to my chest I remove my bra and set my heavy breasts free.
It’s the first time a man has asked me if he needs protection. Either a guy would automatically roll one on or shove it in without consent. But not Butch.
My heart squeezes. He cares.
“Only if you want to. I swear I have nothing. Plus, I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.”
“I know,” Butch says with a sexy smirk, highlighting the dimples in his cheeks.
Of course he does. He’s been keeping a watchful eye on me through the headquarters’ cameras all this time, always present in case I needed him for anything.
“I haven’t been with anyone either,” he adds, watching where his cock slid along the outer lips of my pussy. He looks up at me, moistening his lips with his tongue. “I’ve dreamed of this moment, right here, where you ride me raw.”
Overwhelmed by his confession, I smile and ask, “Is that what you want? To go raw with me?”
He nods, nostrils flaring. “Yes, Goddess. Yes, ride me. Ride me until you’ve had your fill.”
Already wet and ready, I glide down his hard length until I’m fully seated. My biker is endowed, thicker than most men. My snatch aches in the best way, stretching to accommodate all Butch offers.
I gaze at my biker beneath me. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are in a thin line. He grips my hips in his hands with taut muscles.
“Look at me, Butch.”
Breathing heavily, Butch opens his eyes. He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s encountered. He looks at me like he’s barely holding on, shaking with need.
It’s a little surreal seeing how I affect him as much as he affects me.
I lean forward, my nipples grazing his chest, and say, “Before you blow your load, I’m going to blow your mind.”
And then I rock my hips forward, again and again…
“Candy,” Butch groans weakly, “fuck you’re everything.”
Oh, my heart! It flutters wildly in my chest.
I’m everything—to him.
Ravenous, I capture his mouth with mine. He tastes like smooth whiskey and the tang of my lingering arousal. Delicious.
My hips quicken, rocking, rolling. My clit drags around the coarse hairs on his pelvis, sending toe-curling shocks through my core.
With every rotation of my hips, I bring us closer to nirvana. By the way his breathing labors, I can tell he’s close.
Perfect. I am too. And I want us to go over the edge together.
Needing his touch, I remove his hands from my hips and drag them to my chest. “Touch me. Squeeze me.”
Butch palms my breasts, trying hard not to bruise my skin. It’s no good. I want his fingertip markings on me for days to come .
“Touch me like you mean it,” I order, my voice demanding his obedience.
Finally, he grips my tits, kneading. He tugs on my nipples, eyeing them hungrily.
“Yes,” I moan at the first flutters of my oncoming orgasm. “Come. Fill me with your hot spunk.”
Butch bucks underneath me, flooding my insides with wet warmth at the same time I detonate on his cock. Our bodies jerk together, contracting and pulsing as the last ripples of pleasure receded.
Panting, we hold each other. Butch shakes from his exertion, his eyes never leaving mine.
I take his chin with my fingers, claiming his lips, before pulling my face back and saying, “Get on the bed. I’m not through with you yet.”
His smile is feral, teeth bared. “Then you better tie me to the headboard if you’re not ready to accept all I have to give.”
I exhale slowly as I come back to the present. The heat of the memory causes my body to blush.
Last night was beyond perfect. So perfect, I question if I’m awake and not dreaming. I pinch my arm to check.
“Ouch,” I hiss under my breath as my arm stings in protest.
Yup. Wide awake.
Delighted, I cup my hands over my mouth to muffle my excited squeal as I do a little happy dance in the center of the bathroom.
The only thing that could make this moment better is if Butch wanted me as his old lady.
Out of nowhere, an image of me and Butch in front of a white altar draped in fake flowers, saying our vows, springs into my head. Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major plays softly overhead in the candlelit chapel. My biker looks at me with such longing as he slips a giant pink Ring Pop on my finger.
What the…? A Ring Pop?
Ha! What a bizarre fantasy. It must have been a dream from last night, to stand out so fresh in my mind.
I shake my head but can’t shake my smile .
Last night was a step toward something more with the only man I’ve truly wanted for my own. A man to love me for who I am—flaws and all.
It takes everything in me to restrain my enthusiasm when I hear the soft click of the door opening. No need to scare Butch off with my girlish behavior. I quickly school my features into something more seductive as my biker enters the bathroom.