17. Laina
17
LAINA
T he bus hisses as it slows to a stop, the doors groaning open. Heart pounding in anxiety, I step out onto the sidewalk, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder.
I barely take two steps before I see them, outlined by the evening glow dipping along the horizon.
Tank and Vance; tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing that unmistakable Hellfire Riders presence, like armor.
They’re parked just down the street, standing next to their bikes, and Izzy near the bus stop. Izzy’s eyes narrow and lock on mine. With her arms crossed and blonde hair messy from the wind, she looks fearsome. I gulp, this wasn’t going to be easy.
I don’t get more than three feet before she says, “What the hell’s going on, Laina?”
“Not much.”
Izzy lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Right. Not much. You disappear and now you’re just… showing up out of nowhere at a random bus stop outside the city?” She steps closer. “I’ve been worried sick about you,” she says sharply suddenly making me feel like a high schooler being scolded by their mother.
“I know.”
“Then start talking.”
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder, looking between the three of them. Tank and Vance don’t say anything, but they’re watching me carefully, waiting.
“I’ll catch you up to speed once we get to the clubhouse. But I’m just really hungry right now. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
Izzy doesn’t look happy, but she nods and jerks her head toward the bikes. “Fine. But if you think you’re getting out of this conversation, you’re dead wrong.”
Vance steps forward, holding out a helmet, “Come on, I’ll take you.”
I exhale, nodding as I take the helmet and strap it on.
The last time I was on the back of a bike, it was with Liam. Before that, Dagger.
I push the thought down and swing onto Vance’s bike.
The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and as we pull away from the curb, I don’t look back.
The Hellfire Riders’ clubhouse isn’t home.
Not that the Dead Demons’ place was either. But at least there, I knew where I stood. I knew the rules. Here, it’s different. I was welcome here, I wasn’t an outsider, but it still didn’t feel safe.
I sit on Izzy’s couch, tucking my legs under me as I wrap my hands around the steaming mug of honey and chamomile tea she had just handed me. I try to take a sip but stop, feeling too unsettled.
Across the room, Hawk is leaning against the kitchen counter, Tank, and Vance are at the table, talking in quiet tones, but I know they’re listening. They all are. Listening and waiting.
If the Dead Demons knew I had come here, their enemy’s territory after living under their roof and learning about them…well…I shudder and push the thought away before my anxiety gets any worse.
Izzy is sitting beside me, close enough to remind me I’m not alone but giving me space to talk.
I don’t. Not yet.
Not about the Dead Demons. Not about Ash. Not about any of it.
Instead, I focus on the only thing that matters.
“Reynolds found my apartment,” I say trying to keep my voice calm and steady.
The air shifts.
Hawk straightens up, Tank stops talking mid-sentence, and Vance leans forward, watching me carefully.
Izzy’s eyes narrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
I exhale slowly, tightening my grip on the mug. “He left something for me, at my apartment.” I hesitate, then add, “A marionette doll. So I’ve been lying low.”
Izzy shakes her head and murmurs, “Laina, that’s not possible.”
I frown. “What?”
“Reynolds.” She sets her tea down, leans forward, and repeats, “He’s dead Laina.”
The words slam into me like a slap.
I let out a sharp laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, is he? Well, somebody better tell him that.”
Izzy gives me a look, the kind that says be serious, but I am serious.
“He’s gone, Laina,” she insists. “The last time anyone saw him, he was dead in a prison. The whole damn city knows it. No one, and I mean no one , has seen him since.”
“Except me,” I say tightening my grip on the mug, willing my hands to stop shaking. “And whoever left that doll at my door.”
Izzy exhales through her nose. “It could’ve been someone else. A copycat. Some sick freak trying to mess with you.”
“No.” I shake my head, my stomach twisting. “It’s him.”
“Laina—”
“I know it’s him, Izzy!” The words snap out angrily before I can stop them. My voice is raw and sharp, but I don’t care. “You weren’t there! You didn’t hear the way he talked, the way he—” I swallow hard, forcing the memories back down. “He’s alive. And he’s watching me.”
The room is silent.
Tank and Vance exchange a glance. Hawk doesn’t move, but I can feel him analyzing every word and every shift in my expression.
Izzy takes my hand in hers and searches my face for something. I don’t know if she finds it, but when she speaks again, her voice is quieter and tinged with compassion.
“You really believe that.”
I nod. “Yeah. I do.”
She leans back with folded arms, and says firmly, “Then you need to stay here.”
“Izzy—”
“No arguments, if you’re right—if Reynolds is really alive—then you’re not safe anywhere on your own.” She lifts a brow. “You trust me?”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t but if I trust her to take charge, it will mean staying here.
And staying here means?—
“Laina, you trust me?” Izzy asks again.
I let out a slow breath and nod yes.
“Then you stay.”
No wiggle room. No loophole.
I’m still trying to figure out if I made the right decision by coming here after my conversation with Tessa. Izzy is being kind but I know they still don’t believe me. Izzy’s looking at me like I’m a mental patient and not her best friend.
The clubhouse feels too large and loud.
I know I should be relieved that I was with Izzy, in a place where I’m not constantly having to watch my back, but the restless energy in my chest won’t settle.
Because more than anything, I want to sit her down and spill every damn secret.
About Dagger. About Ryder. About Liam. And Ash the complete asshole.
About the way my life has unraveled into something I don’t understand anymore. Something that feels reckless, dangerous, and addictive all at once.
But I don’t.
Because if I say it out loud, it becomes real.
And if it’s real, then I have to deal with it.
So instead, I shove it down, sip my drink, and follow Izzy through the packed clubhouse toward the bar.
We’ve barely made it two steps when I spot Ace.
He moves toward us, easily cutting through the crowd, a box tucked under his arm. When his eyes land on me, he lifts a hand in a casual wave and smiles.
I wave back automatically, but my stomach twists.
Izzy leans close and whispers, “You know he really likes you, right?”
I blink in surprise, “Ace?”
“No, the other guy walking straight at us.” She elbows me lightly. “He’s been asking about you.”
I inhale slowly. Great.
Because that’s exactly what I need in my life. Another biker. Like I don’t already have enough of those complicating my life.
Izzy watches my face, and her smirk deepens. “You could do worse.”
“Could I?”
“He’s hot.”
I sigh and mutter, “They’re all hot. That’s the problem.”
She grins, but before she can say anything else, Ace reaches us.
And whatever is in that box suddenly feels a lot more important than this conversation.
His eyes flick to mine like he’s trying to gauge my reaction before speaking.
“This was left outside,” he says, holding out the box. “It’s got your name on it.”
My stomach drops.
The noise of the clubhouse fades to a dull hum. My fingers tighten around my glass, the condensation slick against my palm.
“What?” I ask in a strangled whisper.
Ace glances between me and Izzy, frowning slightly. “It was just sitting by the door. No one saw who left it.” He holds the box out toward me. “Figured you should see it first.”
I don’t move so Izzy steps forward instead and plucks the box from Ace’s hands. She turns it over once before looking at me. “Laina?”
It’s not a question. It’s a warning.
I swallow hard, my fingers are itching to shove it away, to tell them to burn it, but I force my hands to reach for the lid.
Before I even lift the lid, I know what will be inside.
A tiny marionette doll.
Hand-carved. Stiff-jointed.
With my name carved into its chest.
The box falls from my hands, hitting the table with a dull thud.
The sound barely registers because everything inside me is screaming.
Izzy grabs my arm looking shocked. “Laina?—”
“I—” My breath comes fast and sharp. The walls feel like they’re pressing in, and the noise in the clubhouse starts to warp and twist.
This is not real. It can’t be real, not here. Because it means he’s watching.
He knows exactly where I am. I should have never left the Dead Demons.
“Laina.”
Izzy’s voice snaps me back to reality, a firm grip on my wrist, her eyes locked on mine. “Breathe,” she says.
I try to but I can’t.
Her hands move to my shoulders, grounding me, steadying me. “Look at me. You’re safe.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
Across the room, Hawk is already moving. His voice cuts through the panic, low and controlled. “Vance, Tank—lock it down. I want every eye on that lot, now.”
Men start moving. Voices rise.
I barely hear any of it.
Because just then the doors slam open, rattling on their hinges like they’ve been kicked in.
As I see Ash standing there with murderous eyes, I know that everything was about to get a lot worse.
Ace moves first.
I barely register the shift in the air or the sound of a chair scraping back, before he’s storming toward Ash.
“You don’t get to come in here like that?—”
It happens fast.
Ace takes a swing which Ash dodges. His counterpunch is brutal, a straight shot to the jaw that cracks through the air.
Ace drops to the floor. Hard.
The room erupts into utter chaos with men yelling and getting to their feet, drawing their guns, ready to fire at the enemy.
Ash doesn’t move.
He lifts his hands in slow, measured moves. His chest is heaving, and sweat clings to his skin from the ride over, but his expression is steady, and controlled.
Hawk steps forward.
His expression unreadable, his movements smooth and deliberate. He is calm and cold like ice, while Ash is all fire.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, his fists still flexing from laying Ace out cold, but his hands stay up. Barely.
No one speaks.
The only sound is Ace groaning on the floor, but no one’s looking at him anymore.
It’s just them, Hawk and Ash locked in a silent battle.
Hawk’s voice, when he speaks is lethal. “You lost your mind?”
Ash doesn’t blink. “Not yet.”
“That right?” Hawk’s eyes flick to Ace’s body, then back to Ash. “Because that looks like the kind of move a dead man makes.”
Ash holds his ground. “He took a swing. I put him down,” he said firmly. “That’s how it works.”
Hawk tilts his head slightly. “You got five seconds to convince me not to put you down next.”
The tension thickens.
I can’t move.
Ash exhales sharply, his hands finally lowering, but his posture stays tight and coiled. His voice, when he speaks, is strained but deadly certain.
“I’m the reason Laina’s still breathing right now.”
A muscle jumps in Hawk’s jaw. “That so?”
Ash takes a slow step forward. Not enough to start a war, but enough.
“The second she showed up here, he found her,” Ash says, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He points to the marionette doll on the worn floor. “You think that’s a coincidence? You think Reynolds just happened to track her down now?” His eyes flick to me. “No. He was watching and waiting. The second she left safety—he knew.”
“Are you inferring she’s not safe here?” Hawk growls.
Ash tilts his chin up. The two are nearly identical in height, but Ash is broader with more veins of coiled muscle while Hawk is leaner, maybe faster.
“Just stating facts, Hawk.”
“How the hell can I trust a single word out of your fucking mouth, Ash? The moment you showed up, so did that damn doll.”
Ash clenches his jaw and lets out a mirthless laugh. “Come on. I thought you were smarter than that, but I guess not.”
The tension doesn’t hold.
It snaps.
Hawk doesn’t lower his gun and Ash refuses to back down.
And then Tank makes a move.
That’s all it takes. One step, a small shift of muscle, and suddenly the whole damn room erupts.
Someone throws a punch. Someone else fires a shot into the ceiling. Plaster rains down. Chairs scrape, fists swing, and bodies collide, rushing to take Ash out. The fight explodes like a bomb.
I barely have time to think before I see Ash move.
Fast. Efficient. Brutal.
Tank lunges toward him, but Ash is quicker, dodging and driving an elbow into his ribs. Vance grabs Ash from behind but Ash throws him off, sending him crashing into a table.
Ace is back on his feet, red-faced and bruised but ready to fight. He swings at Ash’s head and that’s when I move.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
I throw myself onto Ash, shoving my body between him and whatever comes next.
“STOP!”
It’s loud. Desperate.
But it works.
For one second—one impossible second—the whole room stops.
Ash freezes. His body goes rigid under me, his breathing hard against my ear.
I grip his jacket, my whole body shaking. “Everyone needs to stop being assholes!” My voice is high and raw as I cry, “Ash is the only reason Reynolds hasn’t gotten me yet. And if you all keep beating the shit out of each other, that’s gonna change real fast.”
Silence.
Heavy. Thick.
My pulse won’t slow and my chest won’t stop heaving.
Ash’s hands are tight on my waist, holding me steady, but his muscles are coiled beneath me—like he’s ready to tear someone apart the second I step away.
I lift my head and glare at every single one of them.
Hawk. Vance. Tank.
All of them watching me warily.
“Enough,” I say again, my voice shaking but strong. “I’m leaving,” I say tightly, “with Ash.”
The room doesn’t move.
Doesn’t breathe.
Ash exhales sharply beneath me, his fingers tightening slightly on my waist.
And then?—
Hawk lowers his gun.
Just an inch, but the inch is enough to signal that this fight is over.
For now.
No one speaks. Hawk watches Ash like he’s already made his decision like he’s calculating exactly what it’ll take to put him down permanently.
Then—
His voice drops to a deadly quiet.
“If anything happens to Laina. If one of your guys so much looks at her the wrong way…I’ll kill you myself.”
Ash doesn’t blink or move.
I don’t wait. I grab his arm and pull him out of the clubhouse with me.
Ash doesn’t say a word to me as I climb onto his bike and peel out of the Hellfire Riders hideout. The ride down the twisting paths with the dark woods rushing past us is completely silent.
But as he pulls up in front of the barn near the Dead Demon’s clubhouse and gets off his bike, he turns to me in blazing fury. His body is still thrumming from the fight. His knuckles are raw, his jaw is tight, and his chest is still rising and falling too fast.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He shouts.
Refusing to be afraid, I cross my arms and lift my chin. “I was thinking I didn’t want to watch you all beat each other into the ground while I stood there like some helpless thing to be fought over.”
His eyes burn into mine, sharp and furious. “The Hellfire Riders?” He huffs out a laugh, dark and humorless. “That’s where you go? You run from me…to them ?”
I dig my nails into my palms, trying to shove down the immediate, sharp stab of guilt. “I went to my friend.”
“You went to another club. You think they can protect you better than I can?”
“I think they see me as a person,” I snap. “Not some possession. Or liability.”
“You think that’s what I see?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “You didn’t even tell me Reynolds was getting closer or that he was watching! You left me completely in the dark and made decisions about my life like I wasn’t even part of the conversation.”
His jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists. “Because you weren’t thinking,” he snaps.
“Because you didn’t let me,” I fire back.
His hand rakes through his hair. “Laina?—”
“No.” My breath is coming too fast now. My chest feels tight, but I don’t back down. “You decided what was best for me. You kept things from me. You treated me like—” My voice wavers, but I don’t let it break. “Like I wasn’t a person anymore.”
“You lost that privilege when you made a stupid mistake like leaving.”
The words hit me like a slap. They feel sharp and direct.
I exhale, the burn in my throat too strong to swallow down.
The silence stretches between us, thick and weighted.
The heat of his words lingers in the air, but beneath the frustration, and the sharp edges of his anger, something else is there too. Something heavier.
I see it in the way his chest rises too fast, in the way his hands stay clenched at his sides like he’s trying not to lose control.
In the way his gaze locks onto mine; dark and searching.
I step closer. Just an inch. “This isn’t just about me leaving, is it?”
His jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker away for half a second before snapping back to me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I take another step, pulled by something stronger than instinct. “You’re not just mad, Ash. You’re worried.”
He lets out a sharp, breathy laugh. “Worried?” His gaze darkens. “I don’t have time to worry, Laina. I have mistakes to fix.”
The words are cutting, but they don’t hit this time. Not the way they did before. Because I see him clearly now. I see through the anger, the control, and the need to be the one calling the shots.
He wasn’t just pissed when he saw me with the Hellfire Riders.
He was furious.
And scared.
“You thought I was gone for good.” The realization presses into my ribs. “That I’d disappeared.”
He doesn’t answer. But the quick flicker in his eyes, tells me everything.
I whisper softly, “You were worried about losing me.”
His whole body tenses, as if the words themselves are something he physically has to withstand.
And that’s when I know.
That’s when it clicks.
It’s not just about Reynolds.
It’s about me .
He does care.
Maybe he hates that he does because it goes against every instinct he has.
But it’s there.
“I want to help.”
His head snaps back to me. “What?”
“I want to help. So let me,” I say again, stronger this time. “I know what Reynolds is capable of. I know how he thinks. Let me help you track him down.”
Ash looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You want to help?” His voice is rough and low. “You want to put yourself in the middle of this?”
“I’m already in the middle of it,” I point out. “You said it yourself—he’s watching me. I might be the only person who can help predict his next move.”
“Jesus Christ, Laina?—”
“I can do this.” I step even closer, too close now, but I don’t care. “You need me for this.”
His jaw clenches so hard I can hear the grind of his teeth. Then, after a long, excruciating minute, he mutters, “You have to be able to follow my orders.”
I blink. “What?”
“You don’t follow orders, Laina.”
“Yes. I do.”
“If you really want to catch Reynolds—if I let you anywhere near this—you follow my orders to the letter.” His voice is firm. “There can be no second-guessing, no running off, or deciding you know best. You will do exactly as I say when I say it.”
I swallow.
“That’s not fair.”
“Who the hell is talking about what’s fair here?”
“You have the upper hand with me here. It’s obvious. I want to help, but you don’t get to control me. I can leave. I can call Hawk and he’d storm this place down if I asked. I’d bet he’d be happy to do it.”
“Careful with your words, sweetheart.”
This is it. This is my way in. I look him square in the eyes.
“I’ll follow your orders, but only if they make sense and you ask for my opinion first.”
“Well, shit. I have a hell of a hard time believing that. It seems to me that you only want to follow orders that make sense to you.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “Can you not be a jackass for like…I don’t know…five minutes?”
Ash watches me, his jaw tight, his body still coiled with frustration. But then his lips curve.
Not into a smirk or the cold, humorless thing he usually offers.
A smile.
Slow and calculated.
Like he knows something I don’t. Like he’s daring me to notice. And I do. God, I do.
Because it’s not just a smile.
It’s desire.
It’s a dark, burning hunger…for me .
The air shifts between us, like something invisible and alive is pulling me toward him. The weight of his gaze is devastating, like a hand skimming over my skin, setting every nerve alight.
I can’t look away.
His eyes—molten, burning with words he won’t say, emotions he won’t let himself feel—stay locked on mine.
I see it.
All of it.
And he knows I do.
Something flickers in his expression; something sharp, dangerous, and undeniable.
“Take your shirt off, Laina.”
“What?” I ask taken aback by his words.
“Show me how well you follow orders,” he says coolly.
Take my shirt off? Here? Now? To prove I can follow his orders?
"You can't be serious," I manage to get out, my voice unsteady.
His gaze doesn't waver. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
No.
No he doesn't. His eyes are dark and intense. They’re boring into me like he can see straight through to my soul.
I swallow hard. My hands tremble as I reach for the hem of my shirt. I hesitate, just for a second. This is insane. It’s reckless and wrong.
But I can't look away from him or ignore the heat building between us. The tension is coiled tight, ready to snap.
Slowly, I peel my shirt up and over my head. The cool air kisses my bare skin and I shiver, from the chill or anticipation, I'm not sure. I let the shirt drop to the ground beside me.
Ash's eyes rake over me, taking in every inch of newly exposed flesh.
His intense gaze travels slowly down my body, taking in every curve and plane making me feel exposed and vulnerable, but also exhilarated. Every nerve ending comes alive under his scorching appraisal.
He closes the gap between us until he’s inches away. I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he leans close and whispers, "You're full of surprises, aren't you Laina?"
I can't find my voice to respond. I'm too focused on the way his fingertips skim along my collarbone, tracing the delicate lines with a feather-light touch. His other hand comes to rest on my hip, his long fingers splaying possessively across my skin.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his breath hot against my ear. "To show me how obedient you can be?"
"I..." My voice falters as his hand slides up my side, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast through the thin fabric of my bra.
"I..." The words catch in my throat as his thumb continues moving against my breast. Heat blossoms across my cheeks, but I can't bring myself to push him away.
"You know," Ash whispers, his breath tickling my ear, "you're... very distracting ."
"Distracting?" I manage to get out breathlessly. "You're one to talk."
His lips curve into a wicked grin. "I never said I was a saint." His hand moves higher, cupping my breast fully now, and all thoughts fly out of my head. I gasp involuntarily as I arch into his touch.
"God," he hisses between clenched teeth, "do you have any idea what you do to me?"
“I’ve heard that before,” I whisper back. His eyes light up and I can feel his hardness pressing against me. My lingering doubts melt away in a haze of desire.
“Now your pants,” he says.
Heat rushes to my face as I contemplate his request.
Eyes locked with Ash's, I reach for the fly of my jeans, fumbling slightly with the button.
His jaw clenches as he watches, his breathing is ragged and unsteady. Slowly, he leans in and whispers huskily in my ear, "Not bad for a good girl."
His hand leaves my hip and skims down my stomach, pausing just shy of my underwear line before trailing back up to my throat.
“Open your mouth, Laina.”
I swallow hard. This was getting out of hand, but I couldn't seem to find the willpower to stop it. Slowly, I do as he says and part my lips. My tongue darts out to moisten them. His eyes darken further, and he smiles with an air of wickedness.
The air crackles with the tension between us. I become lost in the dark hunger of Ash's gaze and the heat of his hands on my skin. Nothing exists beyond this moment; this raw, primal connection that was pulling me under like a riptide.
Ash's thumb traces the seam of my parted lips.
"Suck," he commands.
A shiver races down my spine. I know I shouldn't give in, that I'm teetering on the edge of something dangerous. But with Ash looking at me like that, his eyes promising sin and pleasure, I couldn’t resist. Tentatively, I wrap my lips around his thumb, my tongue swirling over the calloused pad.
Ash makes a low, approving sound deep in his throat. "That's it, baby. Just like that."
Emboldened, I start to suck harder, eliciting a groan of pleasure from him. His other hand delves into my hair, fisting the strands as he pulls me closer. As I feel his hard length pressing against my stomach, liquid heat pools low in my belly.
Releasing his thumb with a wet pop, I gaze up at him from beneath my lashes. "Please, Ash..." I don’t know what I'm asking for, I just know I need more. More of his hands on me, more of his scent surrounding me. Just more of him .
Ash groans loudly, a sound of pure male satisfaction. "Fuck, Laina. You're playing with fire." His hand tightens in my hair, tilting my head back to bare my throat to him. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trail down the column of my neck as his other hand slides lower, cupping me through my underwear. I moan shamelessly, grinding against his touch, desperate for more friction.
"Is this what you want?" he growls against my skin. "You want my fingers inside you, fucking you until you scream my name?"
He nips at my pulse point and I whimper, “Yes."
Suddenly, he pulls back, leaving me aching and empty. I blink up at him in confusion. His eyes are molten, his expression fierce and hungry.
"Then beg."
I swallow hard, my desire at war with stubborn pride. But the throbbing between my legs wins out. "Please," I plead seductively. "Please touch me, Ash. I'll do anything."
A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. "Anything?"
He slides one hand possessively over my hip while the other tugs meaningfully at my underwear. "Then take these off and get on your knees. Show me just how good you can be.”
I sink to my knees on the rough asphalt, barely registering the scrape against my skin. All I can focus on is Ash towering over me, his bulging cock straining against his zipper, inches from my face.
With shaking hands, I reach for his belt buckle. The clink of metal seems obscenely loud in the charged silence between us. I undo the buckle, then pop the button on his jeans. Slowly, teasingly, I drag the zipper down, revealing the black fabric of his boxers underneath.
I glance up at him as I hook my fingers in the waistband and tug downward, freeing his erection. He springs free, hard, thick, and throbbing. The broad head is already glistening with precum.
My mouth waters at the sight and I unconsciously lick my lips. I've never wanted to taste something so badly in my life. Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft, I lean forward and swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the salty-sweet essence of him.
Ash sucks in a sharp breath.
"Fuck, Laina," he hisses, his grip on my hair tightening just enough to send a delicious shiver down my spine. His other hand slides down my back, caressing me possessively. I moan around him in response, taking more of his length into my mouth, feeling him thrust gently against my tongue. Everything except for this moment and this connection between us fades away.
He begins to move shallowly in and out of my mouth, setting a slow rhythm that has me fighting for breath. I’ve never felt so alive or so desired as I do right now with Ash pushing into my mouth, moaning and cursing.
"That's it, baby," he grunts, guiding my motions with a hand on my head. "Take it all."
Spurred by his words, I suck harder, tracing my tongue along the ridges of his cock while flicking at the sensitive underside with the tip. He tastes salty and musky and addictive. My core throbs in time with his thrusts, aching for attention as well.
"God, Laina," he groans, raking his free hand through his hair. "I can't... too good."
Then all at once, he pulls out of my mouth and whips me around, bending me over the leather seat of his bike. His hands are everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Teasing and pinching, he sets me ablaze until I'm arching my back against him, begging for more.
He chuckles darkly in my ear, his erection pressing into the crevice of my ass, the fabric of his jeans rough against my sensitized skin.
"Want this baby doll?" His hips roll against mine, grinding his enormous cock against my swollen core.
The friction only serves to heighten my arousal further. “Yes,” I pant out. “Please, I need you inside me."
Ash's hands trail up my thighs, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Spread your legs for me," he growls in my ear.
I obey without thinking twice, spreading myself for him as if I were made for this and him. The head of his cock nudges at my entrance, sending electric shocks up my spine.
With one hard thrust, Ash buries himself inside me to the hilt. I cry out at the sudden intrusion, my inner walls clenching around his thick length. He holds still for a moment, letting me adjust to his size.
"Fuck, you're tight," he grunts.
Then he starts to move, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he pulls out almost fully before ramming back into my pussy. I moan wantonly, pushing my hips back to meet his punishing thrusts. The slap of skin against skin echoes obscenely in the night air.
"Is this what you wanted?" Ash snarls, driving into me with an almost feral intensity. "My cock buried in you, fucking you raw?"
"Yes!" I sob, my nails scrabbling at the leather beneath me to hold steady. The pleasure is overwhelming, blocking out everything except the feel of him pounding into my aching core.
He fists my hair and yanks my head back. I yelp at the erotic sting, loving the edge of pain mingled with pleasure. His other hand snakes around to rub tight circles over my clit.
The added stimulation has me seeing stars as my climax barrels down on me like a runaway train. "Oh god, Ash! I'm gonna…I'm gonna come!"
Ash intensifies his relentless rhythm, pounding into me harder and faster as his fingers work magic on my sensitive nub. The dual sensations are my undoing. With a hoarse cry, my orgasm crashes over me in intense, shuddering waves. My inner walls clench and flutter around his thick shaft as I come apart in his arms.
"That's it, baby," Ash growls approvingly. "Milk my cock just like that. Fuck, you feel incredible."
I whimper in response. My body goes limp and pliant as the aftershocks roll through me. Distantly, I feel Ash's thrusts grow erratic, his breathing harsh and labored against my neck. With a guttural groan, he slams into me one final time spilling himself deep inside me. The sensation of his hot release coating my fluttering walls prolongs my own climax.
For a long moment, we stay locked together, chests heaving, hearts pounding in sync. Ash brushes a surprisingly gentle kiss on my shoulder before carefully withdrawing. I can't suppress a whimper at the loss, feeling empty and bereft without him inside me.
On shaky legs, I turn to face him, pulling my jeans back up with trembling hands. Our eyes meet and hold, the air between us charged with something deeper than just physical satisfaction. Something that feels dangerously close to an emotional connection.
Ash reaches out and tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering on my flushed cheek. The intimacy of the gesture makes my breath catch. For a fleeting moment, his usual cool composure slips, and I glimpse something raw and unguarded in his dark eyes.
But just as quickly, his walls slam back into place. He steps back, putting distance between us once more. "We should head back inside," he says gruffly. "Before anyone comes looking."
I nod mutely, not trusting my voice. My body still thrums with the afterglow of our explosive encounter, but a cold sliver of reality begins to set in. What did this mean for us?
Tugging my shirt back on, I follow Ash to the clubhouse door on unsteady legs.