Chapter 8 Keely
Chapter eight
Keely
I woke in the early morning light to the heavy weight of Tarzan’s muscular arm draped over my middle.
The solid warmth of his chest pressed against my back and his half-hard cock dug into my thigh.
It felt like heaven to be wrapped up in my sheets with him, wonderfully bare, reveling in that skin-to-skin contact I wanted so badly.
Wiggling deeper into his embrace, I smiled to myself as memories of the previous night replayed in my mind.
Then I remembered our interrupted date, the news about Teddy, and meeting Tarzan’s club. My smile faltered. I trailed my fingers over his forearm, following the ink that swirled up over his bicep.
It could have been him, I thought. Tarzan could have been the one who was shot last night instead of his brother.
Rolling over in Tarzan’s embrace, I wrapped my fingers lightly around his cock, circling my thumb in a teasing rhythm over the crown. A growl rumbled deep in his chest and his eyes twitched, but he didn’t open them yet.
I buried my face in his neck, nosing at his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe. God, he smelled so damn good. Ducking under the covers, I nestled between his thighs, dragging my tongue along a fat, pulsing vein that lined the length of his cock.
“Fuck,” came Tarzan’s muffled rasp.
I grinned, thrilled at eliciting a reaction from him. His cock twitched in my grip, surging thick and ramrod hard. My mouth watered at the sight. A sweet, familiar ache of need throbbed to life between my thighs again.
Last night, I hadn’t fully appreciated the sheer girth and weight of him. I certainly felt it when he was inside me, stretching me open to the limit of what I could take. Even though I wasn’t a virgin, it was my first time with someone who could make me feel that full.
But now, I had the opportunity to slow things down.
To study him. Taking note of the way his breath hitched with every sweep of my tongue.
Or when I found that sensitive little spot beneath the head of his cock—his hips thrust forward, his obliques flexed in sharp relief, and a sinfully deep growl thundered in his throat.
Tarzan swept the covers aside. I grinned up at him, pulling away from his cock with a wet pop.
“Good morning, big guy,” I chirped.
He hummed with a gravel-rough noise of amusement. Cupping his hand under my chin, he swept this thumb across my lower lip.
“I fucking love it when you call me that,” I said.
His cock pulsed even harder in my grip, leaking pre-cum.
“Oh, I can tell.”
In the next instant, I found myself on my back with Tarzan above me, slotting his hips between my thighs. He stroked and teased gently at my pussy with two fingers, testing.
“Are you sore?” he asked. “From last night?”
“In a good way. Definitely ready for round two.”
I twisted my hand up into Tarzan’s hair. It was wild and loose, tousled, making him look even more beastly than ever before. There was something so addictive about watching this burly biker get aroused because of me, stoking his insatiable appetite like a wildfire with every touch.
When Tarzan curled two fingers inside me with a silky glide, he pressed his thumb against my clit at the same time in a steady rhythm. A blissful sigh escaped my lips.
And I yanked just a little too hard on Tarzan’s hair, unintentionally.
A strangled moan tore from his throat, guttural and animalistic.
For a split second, I was stunned. Then my eyes lit up.
Tarzan sighed with defeat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Pull my hair and I sound like a whore.”
I giggled with delight at my discovery. What made it even better was his obvious awareness that I would use this to my advantage at every chance I could get.
“Look,” he said with a huff. “I can explain.”
“Really, Tarzan, no explanation needed. The message was received loud and clear already. That was the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He blew out a breath of amusement.
“Fuck, you look like a kid in a candy store right now. I just—I shaved all my hair off one summer because of the heat. And my darling little brother,” he added with a growl, “made it very clear that my head was shaped like a chicken nugget. So, I don’t cut it that short anymore.”
I snorted a laugh then clamped a hand over my mouth.
“It’s not funny,” Tarzan replied in a flat voice.
“Oh, honey, it’s hilarious. You can make all the excuses you want, but I know the truth. I heard it.”
When I gave another experimental tug on Tarzan’s hair, his hips jerked forward, rutting against my thigh. He bit out a sharp obscenity through his gritted teeth, and his eyes fluttered closed with ecstasy. Every muscle and tendon in his body strained.
I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow, this little secret made him a hundred times hotter in my eyes.
Tarzan braced a hand on the pillow next to my head and leaned in. He looked so menacing, but I knew underneath it all he was completely soft for me.
“If you breathe a word of this to Teddy,” he said. “You won’t be getting any orgasms out of me for at least two weeks. Is that clear?”
“I solemnly swear, my lips are sealed,” I said. “But only if you promise me something.”
“Name it,” Tarzan replied without a moment of hesitation.
I twisted my fingers into his locks and pulled his mouth down to mine, holding his gaze.
“Promise me that you will never ever shave your head again,” I said. “I like having a handle to guide you exactly where I want you. I like hearing my big, scary biker moan only for me.”
His pupils darkened to full black.
“Goddamn it, baby. You’re just begging to be fucked into the mattress when you talk like that, aren’t you?”
A flood of hot anticipation pooled in my stomach and blossomed up my neck. Tarzan hooked his hands behind my knees and hauled me closer, pressing the tip of his cock to my pussy.
“Wait—shit,” he muttered. “I need to get another condom—”
He started to pull away, searching for his jeans. I grabbed his hips, holding him in place.
“I’m on the pill,” I said. “And I’m clean.”
Tarzan considered for a moment, nodding.
“I was tested a few years ago, but I haven’t…been with anyone since. When I moved here, I meant to visit a clinic, but everything has been so chaotic and I wasn’t looking for anyone after—”
He broke off abruptly, but he didn’t need to continue. It seemed pretty obvious what he was going to say next.
After her. Stevie. The woman he loved before.
A moment ago, we were laughing and teasing each other, drunk on the high of skin contact and foreplay.
And now, there was a palpable shift in the air. Tarzan was still thinking of her, even when he was with me.
He must have seen the hesitation in my expression. He took my hand and molded my fingers around his cock, reminding me of what I’d said earlier.
I like having a handle to guide you exactly where I want you.
Then he held my knees open—this powerful, tattooed, hulk of a man who looked at me with nothing but adoration in his eyes.
“I’m yours, Keely,” he said. “And I want you to be mine. My wife. The mother of our children. The woman I come home to every day, for the rest of our lives. The woman I get to wrap up in my arms every night, soft and sweet with so much endless love in her heart that she lights up my whole world.”
My throat tightened. I held my hand out to him. When Tarzan leaned forward into my touch, I pulled him down on top of me, pressing my mouth to his.
Then I guided his cock into me, pulsing and so thick that I sighed against his lips. There was no pinch of discomfort now, no stretch to accommodate his size. He fit like a glove.
Last night, sex had been hungry, fast—grasping hands and greedy mouths everywhere.
This time, we melted into each other. I smoothed my hands down Tarzan’s chest—planes of muscles and hot skin, dark ink and coarse hair—then down to his ass, gripping him tight to hold him in place.
His tongue tangled with mine in a scorching, wet glide. He palmed at my breasts, teasing and pinching my nipples until they were stiff and tender to the touch.
Tarzan’s words echoed in my head with each slow, deep thrust.
I want you to be mine. My wife. The mother of our children.
When I closed my eyes, enveloped by his warm weight on top of me and his big hands worshiping every inch of my body, I could envision glimpses of our future like snapshots.
Tarzan with a tiny baby cradled in the crook of his arm while he ambled around the kitchen on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary on the back of his motorcycle, riding off to a romantic getaway for the weekend.
The way Tarzan’s chest would puff with pride every time I called him my husband, even after we had been married for years.
My thighs trembled at the intensity of my rising orgasm. Tarzan buried his face in my neck, gripping my hips tight. He drove his cock into me like a piston, pumping with relentless power until I was limp with pleasure beneath him.
“Make me come, make me come, make me come,” I rambled mindlessly.
Tarzan lifted his head to look at me, smoothing my damp, tangled curls away from my face. With one final thrust, he pushed deep, grinding hard. I gasped, stuffed full with every throbbing inch.
“Say you’ll be my wife,” he said, low and rough. “Tell me I can call you mine.”
I pressed my forehead to his. Our breath mingled together, our muscles quivering on the edge of explosive release.
“Yes,” I exhaled, clenching around his cock with enough force that he grunted, surging even harder. “Call me wife. Call me sweetheart. Call me whatever you want as long as I’m yours.”
Tarzan gritted his teeth, caging me in with his arms. He wedged a hand between our sweat-slicked bodies and circled my clit with relentless pressure. My orgasm swelled and crashed through me. I gripped his shoulders, locking my legs around his waist.
Tarzan gave a few slow pulses of his hips, grinding so achingly deep that I didn’t think it was possible. He came with a roar, pulsing and hot.
After a minute or two, when the high faded, we sagged into each other, breathless and spent. I threaded my fingers into Tarzan’s hair with a sleepy smile and kissed his shoulder.
“Finally,” I whispered. “I found you.”
The love of my life.