Chapter 4 - Holly
I close the door behind Steel, hardly believing I had the courage to ask him in. The borrowed t-shirt suddenly feels too thin, too revealing, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest where my nipples have hardened to tight peaks beneath the fabric.
"You can sit," I say, gesturing to the small chair in the corner, though what I really want is for him to join me on the bed.
He nods, lowering himself onto the chair, his large frame making it look absurdly small.
His hair is damp, like mine, and I realize he must have showered too.
The thought of him naked, water cascading down his body, makes heat pool between my thighs.
The same heat that had me touching myself in the shower less than an hour ago.
God, I barely know this man, yet I slid my fingers between my legs imagining it was him touching me.
Imagining his large, calloused hands spreading me open, his mouth on my pussy, his tongue circling my clit.
I'd bitten my lip to keep from moaning as I brought myself to a quick, unsatisfying climax that only left me wanting more.
"You okay?" he asks, his deep voice breaking into my inappropriate thoughts.
"Not really," I admit, perching on the edge of the bed. "Every time I close my eyes, I see those men shooting at us. At James." I swallow hard. "I keep thinking about what would have happened if you hadn't pulled me into that alley."
"But I did," he says simply. "And you're safe now."
Safe. Am I really safe in a motorcycle club's compound, sitting half-naked across from a man who makes my body ache with need? I've never felt less safe from my own desires.
"That moment on the fire escape," I say before I can stop myself. "When you had your hand over my mouth..."
His eyes darken instantly, pupils dilating. "What about it?"
"I..." I falter, not sure how to articulate what I'm feeling.
I'm twenty-one years old and completely inexperienced.
The sum total of my romantic history consists of a few fumbling kisses from boys in high school before my parents died and I had to become a full-time caretaker for James. "I felt something."
Steel sits very still, his gaze never leaving mine.
"Adrenaline," he says, but there's a roughness to his voice that wasn't there before. "Fear does strange things to your body."
"It wasn't fear." I gather my courage. "Not just fear, anyway."
I've never been this forward with a man before, never felt this desperate need clawing at me from the inside.
Is it just the trauma of the night, my body seeking comfort in the most primal way?
Or is it something specific to this man, with his gentle hands and deadly skills, his protection and quiet strength?
"Holly," he says, my name a warning on his lips. "You've been through a lot tonight. You're not thinking clearly."
"I know what I'm feeling," I insist, though part of me wonders if he's right. "When you held me against you, when your body covered mine, I felt... safe, yes, but also something else. Something I've never felt before."
He runs a hand through his damp hair. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"I'm not asking for anything," I say, though we both know that's a lie. "I'm just being honest about how I feel."
Steel stands abruptly, pacing to the window and back, his powerful body coiled with tension. "You don't know me," he says, not meeting my eyes. "You don't know what I've done, what I'm capable of."
"I know you saved me. I know you're different from the others."
He laughs, a harsh sound with no humor in it. "Different? I've hurt people, Holly. Badly. I might not enjoy it like some of the others, but I've done it because the club needed it done."
His confession should frighten me. Instead, it only makes the ache between my thighs more insistent. What is wrong with me? Am I really so desperate, so broken, that his admission of violence turns me on?
"We all do what we have to do to survive," I reply.
"I've been taking care of my brother for years, watching him destroy himself with gambling, and still cleaning up his messes.
I've worked double shifts until my feet bled to pay his debts.
I've lied to debt collectors, to our landlord, to myself about whether things would ever get better. "
"You deserve better than that," he says. "Better than him. Better than me."
I stand, closing the distance between us until we're just inches apart.
"What if I don't want better?" I whisper. "What if I just want this? Tonight? With you?"
His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I'm not a child, Jacob." It's the first time I've used his real name again since he arrived at my door, and I see the impact it has on him. The slight widening of his eyes, the catch in his breath. "I'm twenty-one. I know my own mind."
"And I'm thirty," he counters. "I've seen what happens when club life collides with innocence. It doesn't end well."
Innocence. There it is. He sees me as some pure, untouched thing to be protected. And he's not entirely wrong.
"I'm a virgin," I blurt out, immediately wanting to die of embarrassment. His eyes widen further, and I rush to continue before I lose my nerve. "But that doesn't mean I don't know what I want. It just means I've never had the chance to... to explore those wants."
Steel closes his eyes briefly, as if in pain. When he opens them again, the lust in his gaze nearly buckles my knees.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?" he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. "Telling me you're a virgin while standing there in nothing but a t-shirt, looking at me like you want me to devour you?"
The crude words from his mouth make my pussy clench with desire. Yes, that's exactly what I want. To be devoured by this man, to feel his mouth and hands on every inch of my body.
"I'm not trying to torture you," I say honestly. "I've just never felt like this before, and after tonight, after nearly dying, I don't want to pretend I don't feel it."
He reaches out slowly, giving me time to back away. When I don't, his hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my lower lip. The simple touch makes me gasp, my body responding with embarrassing eagerness.
"You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now," he says, the crude word sending another jolt of desire through me.
"How many times I've thought about it just in the past few hours.
But your first time shouldn't be like this.
With a man you barely know, in a strange place, after the worst night of your life. "
"Maybe that's exactly how it should be," I counter, leaning into his touch. "With someone who makes me feel safe in the middle of chaos. Someone who saw me at my worst and still looked at me like you're looking at me now."
His thumb presses harder against my lip, and on impulse, I open my mouth and take it inside, sucking gently. A groan tears from his throat, raw and primal, and his control visibly slips.
"Fuck, Holly," he rasps. "You don't play fair."
"I'm not playing," I whisper around his thumb. "I'm deadly serious."
Something breaks in him then. His hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, pulling me against him as his mouth crashes down on mine. The kiss is hungry, demanding, consuming. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming my mouth and making me whimper.
I've never been kissed like this, like I'm air and he's drowning. My inexperience must be obvious, but he doesn't seem to care, guiding me until I'm kissing him back with equal fervor.
His free hand finds my waist, sliding up under the t-shirt to splay across my bare skin. I gasp into his mouth at the contact, my body arching into his touch. He groans again when he realizes I'm not wearing anything beneath the shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of my rib cage.
"Last chance to tell me to stop," he murmurs against my lips.
In answer, I reach for the hem of the t-shirt and pull it over my head, standing before him completely naked. I should feel self-conscious. No man has ever seen me like this, but the desire in his eyes as he takes in my body makes me feel powerful instead.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes, his gaze traveling from my face to my breasts, to the curve of my hips and the junction of my thighs. "You're fucking perfect."
Before I can respond, he's kissing me again, harder this time, his hands everywhere.
Cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, sliding down to grasp my ass and pull me against his hard cock.
I can feel his erection through his jeans, pressing insistently against my stomach, and the reality of what we're about to do hits me with dizzying clarity.
I'm going to lose my virginity to a member of a motorcycle club. A man who came to collect a debt from my brother. A man who carries a gun and has hurt people badly by his own admission. A man who saved my life.
But as Steel lifts me with ease and carries me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness, all my doubts evaporate. This feels right in a way nothing else in my life has for a very long time.
He stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with an expression that's equal parts desire and disbelief.
Then he pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing a torso sculpted with lean muscle and decorated with tattoos—a rider on his chest, various mechanical symbols and designs flowing down his arms.
"You're sure about this?" he asks one more time, his hands on the button of his jeans.
"I'm sure," I whisper, unable to take my eyes off him. "I want you, Jacob. All of you."
The sound of his real name seems to snap the last thread of his restraint. He sheds his jeans and boxers, and I get my first look at a fully aroused man. His cock is long and thick, jutting proudly from a nest of dark hair, the tip already glistening with moisture.
He must see the flash of nervousness in my eyes because he slows down, crawling onto the bed beside me rather than covering me with his body.
"We'll take it slow," he promises, his hand coming to rest on my stomach. "And we'll stop if it's too much. Just say the word."
I nod, not trusting my voice. His hand begins to move, tracing lazy patterns across my skin, gradually moving higher until he's cupping my breast. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping me as he rolls my nipple between his fingers.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.
"Yes," I gasp as he lowers his head and takes my other nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder as I writhe beneath him.
His hand travels lower, skimming over my ribs, my stomach, until it rests at the top of my thigh. I spread my legs wider, inviting his touch where I need it most.
"Eager, aren't you?" he murmurs against my breast, a smile in his voice. "But we're going to take our time. I want you dripping wet before I touch your pussy."
The filthy word from his mouth sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. I'm already wet, have been since the fire escape, since the shower, since he walked into my room. But I understand what he's doing. He’s making sure I'm really ready, physically and mentally, for what comes next.
His mouth moves from my breast up to my neck, finding a spot just below my ear that makes me gasp. Meanwhile, his hand continues its maddening journey, inching closer to where I'm aching for him but never quite reaching it.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.
"Please what, Holly?" he asks, nipping at my earlobe. "Tell me what you want. Be specific."
I flush with embarrassment. I've never said these words out loud before, never had to ask for sexual pleasure.
"I want... I want you to touch me. Between my legs."
"You can do better than that. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to your pussy."
Oh God. The combination of his crude language and the teasing touches is driving me insane. "I want you to... to put your fingers inside me. And touch my clit. Please."
"Good girl," he praises, and finally, finally his hand moves between my thighs, parting my folds with gentle fingers. "Fuck, you're soaked."
His middle finger slides easily through my wetness, circling my entrance but not pushing inside yet. His thumb finds my clit, applying just enough pressure to make me buck against his hand.
"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Has anyone ever touched you like this before?"
I shake my head, beyond words as he continues to circle my clit.
"What about your own fingers? Do you touch yourself, Holly?"
"Sometimes," I admit, my cheeks burning. "In the shower."
"Like earlier tonight?" he asks, and my eyes widen in surprise. He smiles knowingly. "I hoped so. Were you thinking about me while you touched yourself?"
I nod, too far gone to be embarrassed anymore. "Yes. I imagined it was your fingers. Your mouth."
He groans, his cock twitching against my thigh. "You want my mouth on your pussy? Is that what you want?"
"Yes," I breathe, the thought alone nearly sending me over the edge. "Please."
He doesn't make me ask twice. He moves down my body, positioning himself between my spread legs, his broad shoulders keeping me open to his gaze.
"So pretty," he says, looking at me with such intensity I have to fight the urge to close my legs. "Pink and wet and perfect. I'm going to make you come with my mouth first, before I fuck you. I want to taste your virgin pussy while you fall apart."
Before I can process his filthy words, his mouth is on me, his tongue making a long, slow pass from my entrance to my clit.
I cry out, the sensation more intense than anything I've ever felt.
He doesn't stop, licking and sucking, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me spread open for him and only him.
I've pleasured myself before, but nothing could have prepared me for the feel of a hot, skilled mouth in my most intimate place. He alternates between broad strokes of his tongue and on my clit, building me higher and higher until I'm panting and writhing beneath him.
When he slides a finger inside me, I nearly come off the bed. He pumps it slowly in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on my clit. The dual sensations are overwhelming, pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.
"Jacob," I gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets. "I'm going to—"
"Cum for me," he commands. "Cum on my tongue, Holly."