Motorcycle Man
Page 109
A tremor ran through me at this maneuver and the area between my legs instantly got wet.
Then Tack put his fingers to my h*ps and turned me to him, his mouth slammed down on mine and I got wetter. His tongue thrust into my mouth as my arms slid around his shoulders, his fingers clenched into my hips, jerking me up and I got even wetter.
My ass landed on the basin and my legs wrapped around his hips.
One arm tight around my back, his other hand roamed as he kissed me and I kissed him back. His hand slid over my side, my ribs, up and in, he found my nipple, caught it between thumb and finger and rolled.
I gasped into his mouth, my h*ps shifting on the counter to gain better access to his.
His hand instantly left my nipple and went between us.
“Fuck, please, be ready,” he growled against my lips as his hand worked his jeans.
“I’m ready, honey,” I breathed against his.
He kissed me again then he was inside me. I gasped in his mouth and my legs tightened around his hips. He leaned in, I went back and he braced one hand against the basin, the other arm still wrapped around me and he pounded in deeper and, better still, harder.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His arm around me jerked me slightly out from the basin so he had better access and I moaned as fire shot through me because this meant he could go even deeper and drive in way, way harder. I knew because he did just that.
He f**ked me and kissed me as my hands moved on him, all over him, every inch I could get, fast, feverish but when I was close, one hand sifted in his hair and clenched as my other arm went around his back and squeezed.
“I’m there,” I gasped.
“No shit,” he muttered, I vaguely felt his mouth smile against mine but I was paying a lot more attention to the fact that I was coming.
He lasted a long time, I held him tight and he built it again so I cl**axed again before he finally groaned in my mouth.
Except during my recuperation and after the cosmetic procedures, this hadn’t changed. Tack was always hungry for me. I was always greedy for him.
No. It had changed. It kept getting better and better.
His lips were working my neck and my hands were sliding over his skin when I turned my head and asked, “So, I’m taking it that was Kane ‘Tack’ Allen’s way of communicating he’s happy he knocked me up.”
Tack’s head came up and his lips surrounded by is badass biker goatee were smiling.
“Yeah, babe. That’s my way of communicatin’ I’m glad I got you knocked up.”
“Good,” I said softly.
His smile faded as his hand came up to my neck, palm under my ear, fingers in my hair behind it, thumb moving out to sweep the apple of my cheek.
God, I loved it when he did that.
His eyes watched his thumb move then they came to mine and I held my breath at what I saw.
“I got there,” he whispered.
“Where, baby?” I whispered back.
“God wouldn’t ‘a given me you and all you could give me growin’ inside you if I was not redeemed.”
My heart tripped and my belly flipped as I breathed, “Handsome,” lifting a hand to curl around the side of his neck and moving my head so my forehead was resting against his.
His soft words brushed against my lips and it was the sweetest touch he’d ever given me when he said, “I love you, Red.”
“I love you too, Tack.”
We held each other close, connected and savored the moment before he lifted his head and announced, “We got a party to get to, darlin’.”
He was not wrong.
He touched his lips to mine, pulled out gently and, still gentle, slid me off the counter and onto my feet. He held me close until my legs felt firm under me. Then he dropped his head and kissed my throat.
I closed my eyes.
Second sweetest touch he’d given me. Definitely.
I opened my eyes when Tack stepped away and adjusted his jeans. I turned to the basin and twisted on the taps to clean up.
All was right in the world and I knew this when Tack wandered out of the bathroom bossing, “Hurry up, babe. Takin’ the time to f**k you means we’re runnin’ late.”
My eyes to the reflection in the mirror of the door he disappeared through, I rolled them.
Then I cleaned up.
Back in my panties, I reached to my moisturizer but stopped.
We had pale yellow tile in our bathroom rimmed with thin tiles of white. I’d dumped Tack’s old, mismatched towels and added new, thick emerald green ones. They were hanging on the towel rack.
My eyes moved.
My moisturizer and toner bottles were the deep hued color of moss. My toothbrush was bright pink, Tack’s was electric blue. There was a little bowl by the tap where I tossed my jewelry when I was washing my hands or preparing for bed. It was ceramic painted in glossy sunshine yellow and grass green. My eyes went to the mirror. My undies were cherry red lace.
I grinned at myself in the mirror.
I lived in color, every day, and my life was vibrant.
I rubbed in moisturizer hoping our baby got his or her Dad’s sapphire blue eyes.
But I’d settle if they were my green.
* * * * *
Sitting on top of a picnic table outside the Compound in the warm, late June Colorado sun having a moment of alone time, I heard the clickety-clack of high-heeled shoes and my eyes turned to see Elvira bearing down on me.
And when they did, my lips curved into a smile.
Only Elvira would wear to a barbeque at a biker stronghold a tight, butter yellow, cle**age-baring, halter top dress with a pair of bronze sandals that were so f**k-me, even as a girl I would describe them as that.
She looked like she was about to step out to a trendy eatery not about to bite into a grilled brat.
With a grace borne of practice, she climbed up and sat her ass down beside me at the picnic table whereupon she announced, “Trouble’s a-brewin’.”
I felt my eyebrows draw together at this very strange yet totally Elvira opening. “Pardon?”
Her head tipped in the direction of something and my eyes moved there.
I saw Shy, now a full member of the Club, being Shy. That was to say he had on a pair of faded jeans that fit him all too well, a tight black t-shirt that also fit him all too well, his dark hair was a sexy mess, his mirrored shades were shoved on the top of his head and he was openly flirting with a young, attractive biker babe.
He was smiling at her and his smile was wicked.
She was also smiling at him and her smile was come hither.
Shy was clearly going to get him some. And from copious experience witnessing Shy in action my guess was, he was going to get that some and soon. Hell, just that week I’d seen him charm a woman who was buying wiper fluid in Ride into his bed in the Compound and he’d done it in ten point seven five minutes. I knew this because Hop and I had timed it.
Then Tack put his fingers to my h*ps and turned me to him, his mouth slammed down on mine and I got wetter. His tongue thrust into my mouth as my arms slid around his shoulders, his fingers clenched into my hips, jerking me up and I got even wetter.
My ass landed on the basin and my legs wrapped around his hips.
One arm tight around my back, his other hand roamed as he kissed me and I kissed him back. His hand slid over my side, my ribs, up and in, he found my nipple, caught it between thumb and finger and rolled.
I gasped into his mouth, my h*ps shifting on the counter to gain better access to his.
His hand instantly left my nipple and went between us.
“Fuck, please, be ready,” he growled against my lips as his hand worked his jeans.
“I’m ready, honey,” I breathed against his.
He kissed me again then he was inside me. I gasped in his mouth and my legs tightened around his hips. He leaned in, I went back and he braced one hand against the basin, the other arm still wrapped around me and he pounded in deeper and, better still, harder.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His arm around me jerked me slightly out from the basin so he had better access and I moaned as fire shot through me because this meant he could go even deeper and drive in way, way harder. I knew because he did just that.
He f**ked me and kissed me as my hands moved on him, all over him, every inch I could get, fast, feverish but when I was close, one hand sifted in his hair and clenched as my other arm went around his back and squeezed.
“I’m there,” I gasped.
“No shit,” he muttered, I vaguely felt his mouth smile against mine but I was paying a lot more attention to the fact that I was coming.
He lasted a long time, I held him tight and he built it again so I cl**axed again before he finally groaned in my mouth.
Except during my recuperation and after the cosmetic procedures, this hadn’t changed. Tack was always hungry for me. I was always greedy for him.
No. It had changed. It kept getting better and better.
His lips were working my neck and my hands were sliding over his skin when I turned my head and asked, “So, I’m taking it that was Kane ‘Tack’ Allen’s way of communicating he’s happy he knocked me up.”
Tack’s head came up and his lips surrounded by is badass biker goatee were smiling.
“Yeah, babe. That’s my way of communicatin’ I’m glad I got you knocked up.”
“Good,” I said softly.
His smile faded as his hand came up to my neck, palm under my ear, fingers in my hair behind it, thumb moving out to sweep the apple of my cheek.
God, I loved it when he did that.
His eyes watched his thumb move then they came to mine and I held my breath at what I saw.
“I got there,” he whispered.
“Where, baby?” I whispered back.
“God wouldn’t ‘a given me you and all you could give me growin’ inside you if I was not redeemed.”
My heart tripped and my belly flipped as I breathed, “Handsome,” lifting a hand to curl around the side of his neck and moving my head so my forehead was resting against his.
His soft words brushed against my lips and it was the sweetest touch he’d ever given me when he said, “I love you, Red.”
“I love you too, Tack.”
We held each other close, connected and savored the moment before he lifted his head and announced, “We got a party to get to, darlin’.”
He was not wrong.
He touched his lips to mine, pulled out gently and, still gentle, slid me off the counter and onto my feet. He held me close until my legs felt firm under me. Then he dropped his head and kissed my throat.
I closed my eyes.
Second sweetest touch he’d given me. Definitely.
I opened my eyes when Tack stepped away and adjusted his jeans. I turned to the basin and twisted on the taps to clean up.
All was right in the world and I knew this when Tack wandered out of the bathroom bossing, “Hurry up, babe. Takin’ the time to f**k you means we’re runnin’ late.”
My eyes to the reflection in the mirror of the door he disappeared through, I rolled them.
Then I cleaned up.
Back in my panties, I reached to my moisturizer but stopped.
We had pale yellow tile in our bathroom rimmed with thin tiles of white. I’d dumped Tack’s old, mismatched towels and added new, thick emerald green ones. They were hanging on the towel rack.
My eyes moved.
My moisturizer and toner bottles were the deep hued color of moss. My toothbrush was bright pink, Tack’s was electric blue. There was a little bowl by the tap where I tossed my jewelry when I was washing my hands or preparing for bed. It was ceramic painted in glossy sunshine yellow and grass green. My eyes went to the mirror. My undies were cherry red lace.
I grinned at myself in the mirror.
I lived in color, every day, and my life was vibrant.
I rubbed in moisturizer hoping our baby got his or her Dad’s sapphire blue eyes.
But I’d settle if they were my green.
* * * * *
Sitting on top of a picnic table outside the Compound in the warm, late June Colorado sun having a moment of alone time, I heard the clickety-clack of high-heeled shoes and my eyes turned to see Elvira bearing down on me.
And when they did, my lips curved into a smile.
Only Elvira would wear to a barbeque at a biker stronghold a tight, butter yellow, cle**age-baring, halter top dress with a pair of bronze sandals that were so f**k-me, even as a girl I would describe them as that.
She looked like she was about to step out to a trendy eatery not about to bite into a grilled brat.
With a grace borne of practice, she climbed up and sat her ass down beside me at the picnic table whereupon she announced, “Trouble’s a-brewin’.”
I felt my eyebrows draw together at this very strange yet totally Elvira opening. “Pardon?”
Her head tipped in the direction of something and my eyes moved there.
I saw Shy, now a full member of the Club, being Shy. That was to say he had on a pair of faded jeans that fit him all too well, a tight black t-shirt that also fit him all too well, his dark hair was a sexy mess, his mirrored shades were shoved on the top of his head and he was openly flirting with a young, attractive biker babe.
He was smiling at her and his smile was wicked.
She was also smiling at him and her smile was come hither.
Shy was clearly going to get him some. And from copious experience witnessing Shy in action my guess was, he was going to get that some and soon. Hell, just that week I’d seen him charm a woman who was buying wiper fluid in Ride into his bed in the Compound and he’d done it in ten point seven five minutes. I knew this because Hop and I had timed it.
