Chapter 6 - Ruthless
Angel's arms around my waist are a sweet torture as I navigate the streets toward my place. Every curve, every stop light is an exercise in control – something I'm usually damn good at, but tonight feels different.
Tonight, everything feels different.
Her face is pressed against my back, and I can feel her heart racing. Or maybe that's mine. Twenty years of military and MC life have taught me to stay cool under pressure, but this woman destroys every defense I've built.
I pull into my garage, hitting the remote to close the door behind us. The silence when I kill the engine is deafening. Angel doesn't immediately let go, and I cover her hands with mine where they rest on my stomach.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
She nods against my back before slowly pulling away. When I turn to look at her, the garage lights catch the nervous excitement in her eyes. There's something else there, too – uncertainty, maybe fear?
"Angel," I swing off the bike, turning to face her fully. "We don't have to…"
"I want to," she cuts me off, but her voice trembles slightly. "I just... there's something you should know."
I cup her face in my hands, careful of her bruises. "You can tell me anything, baby. You know that."
She leans into my touch, taking a deep breath. "I've never... I mean, I haven't..." She closes her eyes, frustration evident in her expression. "I'm a virgin."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because it changes how I feel – Christ, nothing could change that – but because of the trust she's placing in me. The weight of it nearly brings me to my knees.
"Look at me," I say gently. When she opens her eyes, I make sure she sees everything I'm feeling. "That doesn't change anything. We can take this as slow as you want. Hell, we don't have to do anything at all tonight."
"But I want to," she whispers, her hands coming up to grip my cut. "I've been waiting for the right person. For someone who sees me – really sees me. Not just as Hellfire's daughter or as some young girl playing at being tough." Her eyes meet mine, fierce and vulnerable all at once. "I've been waiting for you."
My control snaps. I pull her against me, claiming her mouth with mine. She responds immediately, her fingers tightening in my leather. She tastes like ranch dressing and promise, and I can't get enough.
But when she presses closer, making a slight sound in the back of her throat, I force myself to pull back. Because if we're doing this – if she's really trusting me with this – we're doing it right.
"Not here," I say, my voice rough. "Not in my garage like some quick fuck. You deserve better than that."
The blush that spreads across her cheeks makes me want to devour her, but I take her hand instead, leading her toward the door that connects to my living space. Because Angel deserves everything – every soft touch, every gentle word, every moment of pleasure I can give her.
And I plan to take my time showing her exactly what that means.
The moment we step into my living room, I'm hyperaware of everything – the way her hand trembles slightly in mine, the sound of her breathing, a shirt draped over my couch that I should have picked up this morning. Everything feels heightened, important.
"Want a drink?" I ask, though what I really want is to kiss her again.
She shakes her head, stepping closer.
"No. I want..." Her eyes flick to my lips, then back up. "I want you to kiss me again. Like you did in the garage earlier."
Christ. Her boldness, mixed with that underlying nervousness, is driving me crazy. I pull her closer, one hand sliding into her hair while the other settles on her hip.
"Like this?" I brush my lips against hers, feather-light, teasing.
She makes a frustrated sound that goes straight to my groin. "No. Like you mean it."
"Baby," I growl, tightening my grip on her hip, "I always mean it with you."
This time when I kiss her, I pour everything into it – all the months of wanting her, of holding back, of telling myself I couldn't have this. She responds with equal fervor, her hands sliding under my cut, pushing it off my shoulders.
I let her remove it, watching as she carefully drapes it over a chair. The gesture is so respectful, so understanding of what the cut means, that it makes my chest tight. She gets it. Gets me. Gets this life.
"Come here," I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She does, and I take my time removing her cut, giving it the same respect she showed mine. Then I pull her close again, but this time, I slow things down. Because this isn't just about passion or release. This is about showing her exactly how precious she is to me.
"Ruthless," she whispers against my lips, and I feel her hands shake as they move to the buttons of my shirt.
I catch her wrists gently. "We can stop anytime. Just say the word."
"I don't want to stop." Her eyes meet mine, determined despite the nerves I can feel thrumming through her body. "I want you. I trust you."
Those three words – I trust you – hit harder than any 'I love you' could right now. Because trust isn't given easily in our world. And Angel, who's grown up seeing the darkest sides of this life, is offering me her complete trust.
"Then let me take care of you," I murmur, leading her toward my bedroom. "Let me show you how it should be."
Because that's what this is about – showing her that her first time should be perfect. That she deserves to be worshipped, cherished, loved. And maybe I'm not worthy of being the one to show her these things, but I'm going to spend every moment trying to be.
For her. Always for her.
The bedroom is dark until I hit the dimmer switch, casting everything in a soft glow. Angel stands in the doorway, and for a moment, I just look at her – all curves and strength wrapped in uncertainty and desire. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and the sight makes me want to grab her, devour her.
Instead, I approach slowly, like you would a wild thing you don't want to startle. "Come here, baby."
She does, and when I pull her against me, I can feel her heart hammering. My hands slide under her t-shirt, touching bare skin, and she shivers.
"Cold?"
She shakes her head. "Nervous. But good nervous."
I smile against her neck, pressing a kiss there. "We'll go slow. Nothing happens that you don't want."
Her hands find my chest, and this time when she starts unbuttoning my shirt, I let her. Her fingers tremble slightly but grow more confident with each button. When she pushes the shirt off my shoulders, her breath catches at the sight of my tattoos, the scars from years of fighting.
"You're beautiful," she whispers, tracing a particularly nasty scar near my collarbone.
The words make me laugh softly. "Think that's my line, baby."
But then her mouth replaces her fingers on that scar, and all humor quickly vanishes. Heat floods my system as she explores with lips and tongue, learning my body with an innocence that makes me both harder and more determined to take this slow.
"Angel," I warn when she nips at my neck, my hands tightening on her hips.
She pulls back to look at me, and the trust in her eyes nearly breaks me.
"Show me," she says softly. "Show me everything."
So, I do. I take my time removing her shirt and her bra, kissing every inch of skin as it's revealed. When she's bare from the waist up, I lay her on the bed, watching her hair spread across my pillow like a dark halo.
"Still okay?" I ask, needing to be sure.
She nods, reaching for me. "More than okay. Just... stay with me?"
"I'm not going anywhere, baby. Not now, not ever."
And as I lower myself to kiss her again, as her hands explore my back and her legs part to cradle me between them, I know I'm making her a promise. One that goes beyond this night, beyond sex, beyond even the club.
Because Angel isn't just giving me her virginity. She's giving me her trust, her heart, her future. And I plan to spend the rest of my life being worthy of that gift.
My hands explore her body with reverence, memorizing every curve, every reaction. When I take her breast in my mouth, she arches off the bed with a gasp that makes me throb against my jeans. Her fingers tangle in my hair, holding me closer as I worship her with lips and tongue.
Her sounds – soft whimpers and breathy moans – drive me crazy.
I switch to her other breast, and her grip on my hair tightens. Every response, every involuntary shiver, tells me exactly what she likes. And I plan to learn every single thing that makes her fall apart.
"Ruthless," she moans, and my name has never sounded sweeter. "Please..."
"Please what, baby?" I ask against her skin, trailing kisses between her breasts.
"I... I don't know. More. Everything."
I smile against her stomach, feeling her muscles quiver under my touch. At the waistband of her jeans, I pause, looking up to meet her eyes. They're dark with desire but still hold that touch of nervousness that reminds me to take this slow.
"Still good?"
She nods, lifting her hips in silent permission. I take my time removing her jeans, kissing each new inch of exposed skin – her hip bones, the inside of her thighs, behind her knees. By the time she's lying there in just her black panties, she's trembling, but not from fear anymore.
"You're so beautiful," I murmur, running my hands up her thighs. "So perfect. Every inch of you. Every curve."
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn't look away. There's something incredibly arousing about how she maintains eye contact, even through her nervousness.
"Your jeans," she says softly. "Take them off?"
I stand, aware of her eyes on me, as I strip down to my boxers. I notice how her gaze lingers on my tattoos, my scars, the obvious bulge in my underwear. There's curiosity there, mixed with desire and a touch of apprehension.
When I return to bed, she reaches for me immediately, pulling me down for a kiss that's all heat and need. Her hands explore my chest and my back, learning the feel of me as I settle between her legs.
My hand slides between us, over her panties, feeling the dampness there. She gasps against my mouth, hips bucking into my touch.
"That's it, baby," I encourage, rubbing slow circles. "Let me make you feel good first. Want to make sure you're ready."
I slip my hand under the fabric, and she practically comes off the bed at the first touch of my fingers against her bare flesh. She's so wet, so responsive, it takes everything in me to maintain control. Especially when she makes those little sounds in the back of her throat.
"Oh God," she whimpers as I find her clit, circling it gently.
"I've got you," I murmur, kissing her neck as I slip one finger inside her. She's tight – Christ, she's tight – and I go slow, letting her adjust. "Just feel, baby. Let go for me. Nothing exists right now except this."
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I work her carefully, adding a second finger only when I'm sure she's ready. Her breathing gets faster and shorter, and I can feel her getting close. The way she moves against my hand, seeking more friction and more pressure, is the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
"Ruthless, I'm... I think I'm..."
"Come for me, Angel. Let me see you fall apart. You're so beautiful like this, baby. So perfect."
She does, crying out my name as she clenches around my fingers. I work her through it, watching her face as she experiences her first orgasm at someone else's hands.
The way her back arches, how her thighs shake, the pure pleasure written across her features – she's never been more beautiful than in this moment, completely open and trusting with me.
When she comes down, her eyes flutter open, dark with satisfaction and renewed desire. "That was..."
I kiss her softly. "Just the beginning, baby. If you want more."
Her answer is to pull me down for another kiss, deep and hungry, and I know tonight is going to change everything.
For both of us.