Chapter 9 - Amy
The sun sinks lower, painting everything in that magical golden light photographers call "the golden hour." It transforms the world around us, making the ordinary seem enchanted. The lake shimmers like liquid gold, the trees become burnished bronze sculptures, and Viper...
God, Viper in this light is something else entirely.
The warm glow softens his sharp features, highlighting the angles of his cheekbones, the straight line of his nose, the fullness of his lips.
His dark hair catches the light, revealing hints of auburn I hadn't noticed before.
And his eyes, those piercing green eyes, seem to burn with an inner fire against his sun-kissed skin.
I shouldn't be noticing these things. It's ridiculous, honestly. I've just escaped months of captivity, my body is a patchwork of bruises, and I'm sitting here getting wet over a biker I barely know. There must be something wrong with me.
But then again, maybe there's something right with me too. Maybe the fact that I can still feel desire, still appreciate beauty, still want human connection means the Vultures MC didn't break me completely.
I've always been a sexual person, much to the dismay of my more conservative foster parents.
Even as a teenager, I understood the power of desire, the comfort of physical connection in a world that offered little comfort otherwise.
Kelly used to tease me about my "healthy appetite," as she called it.
And now, after months of nothing but fear and pain, that part of me is awakening again. Like a dormant volcano suddenly remembering it knows how to burn.
"Penny for your thoughts," Viper says, his voice low and rough.
I almost laugh. If he knew what I was thinking, he'd probably run for the hills. Or maybe not. There's something in the way he looks at me sometimes...
"Just appreciating the view," I say, which isn't entirely a lie.
"It is something, isn't it?" He gestures toward the sunset. "Worth staying for."
"Definitely." My eyes remain on him rather than the scenery.
I want to touch him. It's a sudden, overwhelming urge that catches me off guard with its intensity.
I want to feel the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his skin, the texture of his hair between my fingers.
I want to know if his beard would scratch against my palm or if it's softer than it looks.
"We don't get many moments like this," Viper says, oblivious to my inappropriate thoughts. "Peaceful. Beautiful. Worth remembering."
"No, we don't," I agree, forcing myself to look back at the sunset. The last sliver of sun disappears behind the trees, leaving behind a sky painted in deepening shades of pink and purple. "Thank you for staying with me."
"My pleasure," he says, and something in his tone makes me glance back at him. He's watching me, not the sunset.
I should look away. I should make a joke, break the tension, remind us both why this is a terrible idea. Instead, I lick my lips, a nervous habit I've had since childhood.
His eyes track the movement, darkening slightly. Fuck.
I want to lean forward, to close the distance between us and press my lips to his. To taste him, to feel the scratch of his beard against my skin, to lose myself in something that isn't pain or fear for once.
But I'm frozen, my body refusing to obey my mind's commands.
Suddenly, unwelcome memories flood back.
Mike's voice hissing threats in my ear, describing in graphic detail what he planned to do to me once Charles was finished with his "lesson.
" Charles's cold eyes assessing me like merchandise with a defect that needed correcting.
What if I'm wrong about Viper? We're alone now, miles from the clubhouse, from Kelly, from anyone who might help me.
If he's not who he seems, if he's hiding darker intentions beneath that thoughtful exterior.
.. it would be my word against his. And who would believe me?
The damaged girl with the history of poor judgment against a respected club member?
My hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into the denim of my jeans as I try to control the trembling that's started in my core and is rapidly spreading outward. Sweat trickles down between my breasts despite the cooling evening air.
"Amy? You okay? Are you cold or...?"
I try to answer, to reassure him that I'm fine, but my voice is stuck somewhere in my throat, words refusing to form. Panic rises, that horrible helpless feeling of being trapped in my own body, unable to act, to speak, to run.
God, I'm so fucking useless. One minute I'm wet and wanting him, the next I'm a trembling mess because of a memory. Pathetic.
"Hey," Viper says softly, and then his arms are around me, strong and secure but not confining. He pulls me against his chest, one hand at my back, the other cradling the back of my head. "I've got you. You're safe."
The steady thump of his heartbeat against my ear grounds me. His arms flex around me, tightening just enough to make me feel protected. And the crazy thing is, I'm still turned on.
Even through the panic, I can feel the slick heat between my legs, the way my thighs press together seeking friction, and my panties rubbing against my pussy.
Viper swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Better now?"
"Yes," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you. This feels... I don't know. Like a dream. Sitting here with a handsome man watching the sunset."
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where my head rests. "Handsome, huh? You think so?"
"Of course," I say, finding my voice again. "And I think you know it too."
"Maybe I do," he admits, a playful light entering his eyes. "Or maybe I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Fishing for compliments?" I give him a playful shove, but he doesn't let go, pulling me with him so we end up even closer than before, our faces barely an inch apart.
My eyes drop to his lips—full, perfectly shaped, slightly reddened like he's been biting them.
"My eyes are up here," he teases, mimicking the line women have used on men since the beginning of time.
"I know," I reply boldly. "But I prefer looking at your lips right now."
He laughs softly. "You're something else, Amy Stone. One of a kind."
And then he's leaning forward, eyes drifting closer, and I follow his lead, meeting him halfway. His lips are soft, softer than I expected from someone so hard in other ways. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure as I respond.
His hands slide down to my hips, and I don't even flinch at the touch. There's no fear here, no uncertainty. This isn't the bad guy. This is a man who wants to cherish me if I let him.
And god help me, I want to let him.
Viper breaks the kiss, both of us gasping slightly for air.
When I open my eyes, I can't help but notice the substantial bulge straining against his jeans.
The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
I want to touch him there, to feel him grow and harden in my hand, to have that kind of power over such a strong man.
But I need to control myself. My body is still healing, and rushing into sex might not be the wisest choice, no matter how much I want it.
"I didn't expect this to happen," he says, his voice husky with desire.
"Me neither," I admit. "So... what now?"
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch impossibly gentle. "That depends on you. I know you're still hurt, still healing. We can stop right here, no questions asked, or..." His eyes darken. "We can see where this goes."
The responsible part of my brain is screaming at me to slow down, to think this through. But my body has other ideas.
"Would we... do it here?" I ask, glancing around at the empty lakeside.
"I wouldn't mind," he says with a roguish grin that sends shivers down my spine. "But only if you're comfortable with that."
"I don't think I can wait until we get back to the clubhouse," I confess, heat flooding my cheeks. "I need... something. Now."
His hand moves to his bulge, cupping himself through his jeans. "I need something too," he says, voice dropping an octave.
Emboldened by his openness, I slide my hand down the front of my pants, maintaining eye contact as I do. "So do I."
His breath hitches visibly, pupils dilating until the green of his eyes is just a thin ring around black.
"Touch yourself," he commands softly. "Let me see you feel good."
I slip my fingers beneath the elastic of my panties, finding myself embarrassingly wet. My middle finger circles my clit, and I gasp at the sensation. It's been so long since I've touched myself this way, and never so shamelessly, never with someone watching me with such hungry appreciation.
"You too," I manage between soft moans. "I want to see you touch yourself too."
He doesn't hesitate, unbuckling his belt and lowering his jeans just enough to free himself. My eyes widen at the sight. He's thick and long, the veins prominent along the shaft, the head already glistening with pre-cum. My mouth actually waters at the sight.
Viper wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly, his grip tight as he moves from base to tip and back again. His head tips back slightly, eyes heavy-lidded but still fixed on me.
I can't look away from his cock, from the hypnotic rhythm of his hand, even as my own fingers work faster between my legs. The dual stimulation of touching myself while watching him is overwhelming. Heat builds rapidly in my core, my thighs tensing as I approach the edge.
"Fuck," I gasp as the orgasm hits me, my body shuddering with release, my fingers slick with my own wetness. I pant heavily, coming down from the high but still watching him stroke himself.
"Get on top of me," he says, his voice strained with need.
I glance around quickly. The lake is deserted, the light fading rapidly, the chances of being seen minimal. I stand on shaky legs, removing my jeans and panties, but keeping my shirt long enough to cover my ass just in case. Then I straddle him, his hands coming to my hips to steady me.
He guides his cock to my entrance, and I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, bordering on too much after so long without sex, but not quite painful. When he's fully seated inside me, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, burying my face against his neck.
"You okay?" he asks, completely still beneath me, letting me adjust.
"Better than okay," I whisper, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the moment’s intimacy.
I start to move, lifting myself up and then sinking back down, finding a rhythm that works with my still-tender ribs. His cock pulses inside me, hitting spots that make my vision blur at the edges. I throw my head back, losing myself in the sensation, in the cool breeze against my overheated skin.
As I ride him, my shirt rides up, exposing more of me to his view. He looks down between us, watching where our bodies join.
"Fuck, you're so creamy," he groans appreciatively. "So fucking hot."
Previous partners had sometimes complained about how wet I get, making me self-conscious about something I couldn't control. But Viper sounds genuinely turned on by it, like it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.
"You like that?" I ask, grinding down harder.
"Fucking love it," he growls, his hands tightening on my hips. "Love how wet you are for me."