Scars’ response was immediate. Powerful. Passionate.
He wrapped those huge, scarred arms around her, and he kissed her like she was the last woman he’d ever want to be close to, the last one he’d ever want to be with. Zero hesitation, zero holding back.
And God, his kisses were something else. Zoe had known her fair share of men in her life – maybe more than her fair share, because she’d been a bit wild in her teenaged years – but this man blew them all away. Left them in the dirt and the dust.
He kissed her like he was starved for her, like he was parched for her. Like he drew his air from her parted lips, like he drew life from her breath.
He kissed her like she was his.
She’d never been kissed this way, like she was being claimed. She liked it. She liked it a hell of a lot.
Scars broke away now, stared down at her intently. Those eyes were staring past her skin, past her bones, all the way to her core. He was silent, still, and all the passion she’d felt radiating from him a minute ago was gone.
“What’s the matter?” she said, suddenly totally terrified that she’d gotten him all wrong. “You don’t – don’t you want to? Be with me?”
“Fuck, baby… of course I want to be with you.” He caressed the nape of her neck with gentle fingers. “Hell, it’s all I want to do. Believe me.”
She relaxed, but still felt confused. “OK… it’s just that you look a bit unsure.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” He kissed her, and it was like a little point of emphasis to his words. “I’m as sure as sure can be, Zoe. I’m just checking in with you.”
“Oh,” she said, unaccountably touched that the scarred warrior had a bit of a gentleman side to him. “I’m good. Really good.”
“Are you now?” he murmured. “Let’s go see about that, huh?”
Her stomach jumped. Scars took her hand, tugged her down the hallway to the back rooms that she recalled the MC used for all kinds of activities, from private meetings to naps to sex. Her heartbeat sped up, double-time, triple-time, and she prayed like crazy that Scars didn’t stop in front of…
“This one,” he said, stopping. “I think it’s empty.”
Before she could push past her terror to say one word, he swung the door open, pulled her inside.
And Zoe froze up, just froze solid. The pool table was still there. The room hadn’t changed at all in six damn years – oh, my sweet dear God, it even smells the same – and in less than one second, she was thrown back to that night. She felt the rope on her wrists and ankles, felt her cheek and mouth throbbing from Bear’s punches, felt the knife in her soft flesh, felt the panic rising in her chest.
“It’s not The Ritz, but it’ll do.” Scars turned as he spoke, then saw her face. “What’s up?”
She didn’t have the breath to answer, so she just shook her head.
Alarmed, Scars took her face in his rough hands. “Zoe? What is it?”
“Not this one,” she managed at last. “Not this room.”
He looked around. “Why not?”
“Just – just not this one, OK, Scars?” Her voice was stronger now. “Any one but this one.”
Scars peered down at her, wondering just what the hell was going on. “You been here before?”
No way she was answering that question, so she turned and walked straight out the door. If he wanted her, he’d follow.
Sure enough, she heard his heavy footfalls right behind her. She stopped and turned to face him again, her arms crossed. The shock of being back in that room had killed her arousal, but one look at him, and she felt a flutter in her stomach again.
“Zoe?” That voice was impossibly soft. “You alright?”
“I am now.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Any other rooms free?”
He didn’t look very convinced, but he took her hand again, more carefully now, like he thought maybe she’d break or detonate. And just like that – at just the touch of those massive, scarred hands holding her smaller, smoother ones – her desire was reignited. All she could think about was that uneven, rough skin on her body. All over her body.
He tried another door, and the handle turned. They stepped in, and right away, he turned to looked at her again. Checking in.
“What do you think??” Scars asked, watching her eyes, hoping that that strange, almost haunted look didn’t reappear. “This one OK?”
Her response was to lock the door, kick off her shoes, get up on her tip-toes and kiss him again. Helplessly, his whole body responded like the horny bastard that it was, but his rational brain was blaring a warning, insistently.
Make sure, man. Make sure she wants this.
Gently, Scars pulled back slightly, cupped her face in one large hand, lifting her chin so that her incredible emerald sparkle met his own blue flame. His rough thumb stroked her neck and he felt her body tremble at his touch. He pressed lightly on her pulse, held and then released, and her eyes flared.
That was what he’d been hoping for: Scars was sure now that she wasn’t trembling from fear, from doubt. It was aching, animal want, pure and simple, and his own flared.
Scars moved his other hand to her face now, tipping her head farther back, exposing her lovely neck, opening her to his gaze. Her perfect rosebud lips were parted and those beautiful eyes were locked on his. Her breath was coming faster, her breasts rising and falling with each inhalation and exhalation. He waited another few seconds, giving her the chance to back up or move away. When she didn’t budge, he leaned in.
Zoe saw the kiss coming and she closed her eyes in delicious anticipation. When his mouth rested on hers, she pressed up against his broad chest, loving the mountain of muscle against her own softer curves. Her hands came up to grip his upper arms, and she held on to him for dear life as waves of desire washed over her, getting stronger with each passing second.
His lips moved now, down her throat, across her delicate collarbone, lower. His hands were gentle and yet still confident, and they circled her waist easily. Zoe gasped when his fingers brushed her nipples through the thin material of her blouse. Suddenly the flimsy cotton felt huge and heavy on her, and she wanted him to just rip it off her body. She put her hands on top of his and Scars paused.
“You want me to stop, baby?”
“No.” Her voice was hoarse with longing. “No, I want you to keep going.” She moved his hands down her body, to the bottom of her shirt. She curled his fingers around the material and helped him to lift it up her body, over her curves, over her head. She then moved his hands back to her waist, helped him unzip her skirt, pushed his hands down her hips and thighs.
The skirt fell to the ground, and Scars looked at the tempting, perfect angel standing there in front of him. Zoe was in a simple white bra, plain white cotton panties, she had a belly button ring and delicate ink on her shoulders, and he honestly thought that he’d never seen anything so utterly breathtaking.
“Zoe.” His hands were gliding along her strong shoulders, moving down her back, pulling her to him. She felt his cock pushing against her stomach, hard and hot. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I’m going to ravish you, baby.”
“Promise?” she said, and he smiled at the teasing, chiding note in her sweet voice. “Cross your heart?”
“Promise,” he said. “Now come here and turn around.”
She came to him without hesitation, and did as he said. The sight of her smooth, creamy skin, with the lotus flower tattoo on her lower back, made his mouth go dry. He couldn’t stop touching her silky, cool skin; she was like a shining jewel, and he ached to run his tongue over her pure beauty.
But first things first.
Zoe gasped when his fingers slid under her bra, undoing it in a single, practiced snap. It fell to the floor, and before she’d taken a breath, his hands were sliding under the waistband of her underwear, then they were just gone, just pooled around her ankles.
Just like that, Zoe was naked in front of Scars Innis.
And she felt totally fine with that state of affairs.
He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders, and then those incredible eyes looked her up and down. Like he was committing her to memory, like he was inspecting a cherished possession – and again she felt that odd and undeniable sense of being owned, claimed, taken.
She’d never known a man to make her feel that way with just a look.
“So,” she managed through the desire rising in her throat. “I’m naked, and you’re not. How come?”
His smile was slow and dangerous, and it did things to her self-control. God, she wanted him now… but the man seemed to be in total command of himself. She wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that, but maybe if she teased him a bit, goaded him, he might respond with some teasing of his own.
Hopefully with those amazing hands.
Sure enough, he asked, “How come I’m not naked?”
“Yeah.”
“Because I want to enjoy you naked for a little while longer. That cool with you?”
Zoe shrugged, tossed her blonde head a bit. “I guess it depends what you’re going to do with me while I’m naked.”
“Does it now?”
“Yep.”
“So is this an OK thing to do while you’re naked?” he asked, his right hand sliding between her legs, and cupping her pussy. “Meets with your approval?”
“Erm,” she said, catching her breath as her slick arousal actually pooled into his palm. “Yes.”
“Good to know.” Scars rubbed her slowly, making sure to put pressure on her clit. “And this? Also OK?”
“Yes.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” His fingers were inside her now, probing gently, and her knees started to shake beneath her. “This?”
But Zoe couldn’t actually articulate an answer this time. His touch was just so good, and it had been so long, and she was so ready. He smiled again, watching her helpless response to this small touch, loving the passion and honesty of her response.
Without a word, he pushed her down onto the sofa behind her, her knees splayed, her feet on the floor. He knelt in front of her, used his broad shoulders to push her legs farther apart. He dipped his head, then paused, looked up at her.
“Yes?” he grated out. “Is this OK?”
She nodded frantically, seconds away from begging. God, when was the last time that a guy had done this for her? Years, right? And then, oh dear God, Scars’ mouth was on her most sensitive, secret flesh, giving her that most intimate, aching caress… and Zoe forgot about thinking. She forgot about everything except his mouth on her pussy, his tongue in her pussy, his lips kissing her pussy.
Scars knew that she was close already, and he also knew that he didn’t want her to come that quickly. Yeah, he was a cruel, sadistic bastard in some ways… but he got the feeling that Zoe hadn’t been with anyone for a while, and that she missed physical connection.
He wanted to do something special and amazing for her: he wanted her to come from the most intense, the closest, physical connection that there was. He wanted her to come on his cock, in his arms. And seeing as how he was already leaking pre-cum and counting backwards from one hundred to keep his excitement in check, he’d better get to that.
Scars leaned back and away, and Zoe moaned in disappointment and frustration – until she opened her eyes and saw him undressing. Delighted beyond belief suddenly, she sat up to watch. He kicked off his boots and jeans first, then his cut and t-shirt.
When his shirt hit the floor, she blinked at his huge body of angles and planes and taut muscles. Unable to stop herself, she stood up again, ran her fingers over his broad chest, felt his heartbeat quicken under her touch.
Slowly, she stroked the thick, raised scars scattered over his upper body, the numerous tattoos (especially an incredible one of what looked like the Tree of Life in a garden), the dark hair that peppered his hard pecs, and then ran in a line down his muscled abdomen. Her fingers followed the line until it reached the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts and she paused.
“Your turn to be naked,” she said saucily. “May I?”
He smiled at her. “You absolutely may, baby.”
Zoe lowered his boxers and she watched as he sprang free. At the sight of him, her pussy gave a spasm and her rosy nipples hardened. He was perfect – long and thick – and he was going to feel incredible.
Scars took her in his arms again, kissed her. She opened to him, and his tongue stroked her mouth, softly probing her. Zoe thought about his tongue and cock doing that to her lower lips and her legs started to shake.
He opened the drawer in the low coffee table next to the sofa, pulled out a condom. She blinked a bit, and he paused.
“I don’t have my own,” he said. “I never – I mean, I wasn’t expecting this, Zoe. These are for anyone to use, like club supplies. Is that OK?”
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t have any, either. I – well. I also didn’t come here tonight prepared.”
“And yet here we are,” he said softly. “This really OK?”
In response, she took the condom from him, opened the foil wrapper. He muttered a curse under his breath, and she watched fascinated as his large hand went to his cock and stroked. She was stunned at what a turn-on she found that, and she couldn’t look away as he moved over his hardness, over and over.
“You like that?” he asked between gritted teeth. “Watching me touch myself?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
“Condom, baby.” He held out one hand, still stroking with the other. “Now.”
She handed it over, watched as he rolled it down his incredible length. Then she gave a little scream when Scars grabbed her around the waist, sat down on the sofa, pulled her down into his lap. She balanced herself on his shoulders, surprised that he’d want her on top.
He kissed her, his hands running over her breasts, down the curve of her hips, then lower. He gently set her knees down on either side of his thighs, and delved between her legs again, skimming over her pussy, just brushing her lightly with a whisper of a touch. She closed her eyes and held her breath, silently begging for him to stroke her there.
Instead, Scars reached up and tugged at the clip holding her hair back. Her golden curls fell over her shoulders and around her face like a shimmering waterfall, loose and warm – and just like that, Zoe went from breath-stealing to heart-stopping.
“Scars,” she said, and he heard need and want in his name. “Please…”
“Please what, baby?” he said, lifting her hips slightly, and rubbing his cock against her sex. “Use your words.”
“Inside me. Please… please…”
“I’m not a white knight, Zoe, and I sure as hell am not a choir boy. I want words. Dirty ones.”
She flushed, embarrassed but also incredibly aroused. She’d never asked a guy to do anything explicit, and she was suddenly afraid that she couldn’t.
He saw her confusion and hesitation, and gave her a lingering, sweet kiss. “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you want. Anything you ask for, I’ll do it.”
“Scars…”
“Hmmm?” He pressed the tip of his cock against her clit, just held it there. A promise unfulfilled that was being teasingly withheld. “Yes?”
“Scars…” Her back arched as she realized that she was actually seconds away from coming. “Scars…”
“Right here.”
“Please fuck me.”
His arousal roared beyond belief, and he groaned. “Oh, hell, yeah. Baby, I can do that.”
Scars pressed the tip of his cock to her slick channel, and she closed her eyes at how it felt for him to be right there, right against her aching need. He kissed her as he pushed inside her, his tongue probing her mouth and his cock probing her hot centre, and without any warning at all, without any idea that this was going to happen, Zoe climaxed.
Her fingernails dug into his back, breaking the skin, and she held on to him, shuddering and gasping, unable to believe that she was actually coming. It had never happened to her before, that she had an orgasm at a man simply sliding inside her, but Scars seemed to have that effect on her.
Scars couldn’t believe it, and he could tell that she couldn’t either, but he fucking loved it. He just stayed still, holding her writhing, shaking body close, and watched Zoe’s face as she lost herself in his arms for the first time.
She collapsed onto his chest now, her body still rippling with little aftershocks. She turned her panting mouth into his neck, caught her breath, still stunned and dizzy.
“Oh, my God,” she said at last. “I’ve never done that before. I mean, I’ve done that before, but I’ve never done that so quickly before.””
“I’ve never had anyone do that so quickly before,” he said, his hands stroking her back, helping her to quiet. “I wonder if it’s a World Record?”
She huffed out a laugh, lifted her face from his throat and met his blazing gaze. “Impossible to officially verify, even if it was.”
“I’d be happy to perform again in front of a committee. Just ask, baby.”
She giggled. “You did say that you’d do anything that I asked…”
“You want to ask for something else?”
“Yes.”
“I’m listening.”
“Please fuck me.” She rotated her hips slowly, took him a bit deeper. “Because, technically, you haven’t yet. Not really.”
“You alright for me to keep going, Zoe?” he said. “Are you too sensitive?”
“I’m OK,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just… go slow. At first.”
“OK. I will, I promise.”
Scars started to rock slowly and gently, watching her to make sure it wasn’t too much, too fast. She lifted her hips to meet him as he pressed in and retreated, every entry a bit further, a bit deeper, and she was moaning as he reached and touched and stroked her in places that she didn’t even know she had hidden in her body.
Finally, he was all the way inside her, buried to the hilt and she tightened her legs on either side of his, pulling him closer, pulling him in. He withdrew one final time, then thrust inside her as far as possible. They both cried out and he pressed his lips to the pulse in her beautiful throat, letting her get used to having all of him inside her.
Zoe felt a spark starting to flicker and burn in her stomach. He was just so deep, so huge, and he was panting so hard and fast in her ear, his voice so full of need and urgency as he breathed her name.
“Ready?” he said at last, and she nodded, gripping his shoulders again. “I want you to come again, Zoe, nice and hard and loud… and I want you to scratch up my back. Give me some marks, baby. I fucking love them.”
“Yes,” she breathed, and she moved her hands down his back a bit. “I will.”
They started to move together, over and over, and a tantalizing friction built and built between them. Scars started moving faster, thrusting into the hot heart of her, and her pussy muscles started to pull on him, hard and steady.
He fought to hold off his own orgasm, wanting her to come again before he did. Almost crazed by her moans and movements, he slammed into her as hard and fast as he could, and she writhed above him, around him, wild and abandoned, her nails leaving red welts in his skin, just as he’d demanded.
“Scars…oh, God. I’m coming… now… now.”
He angled her hips to hit that sweet spot over and over again, and she gave a small shriek as she rode the longest, hardest orgasm of her life. The look on her face set him off, and he gave one last thrust before releasing inside her in helpless, throbbing bursts.
“Fucking mine,” he growled, even as his face was buried in her shoulder, his mouth open and hot as he panted against her throat, his eyes closed in ecstasy. “Zoe… God…”
Exhausted, spent, he looked into her luminous eyes. He kissed her gently, still inside her, never wanting to move again. She took a deep breath, nestled against his shoulder, and ran her hands up and down his muscled back, not wanting to be anywhere but where she was right at that moment.
“Zoe?”
She raised her tousled head and looked at him. “Yes?”
Just then, he did something so surprising, so unexpected, so damn gorgeous, that her heart stood still in her chest.
Scars reached up, traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. Slow. Soft. Gentle.
“Beautiful,” he said, and this wasn’t a growl or a grunt. His deep voice wasn’t harsh, or hard, or full of sex. No, it was full of wonder, of awe. Full of light. “So damn beautiful.”
He slipped out of her then, but still held her closer, and they were quiet for a few minutes. Just breathing together, recovering together, rejoining this world together.
Scars smiled to himself, simply unable to believe that she’d just shown up at Satan’s, just wandered on into his life. No way he was letting her go, now that she’d appeared. He wanted to take her back to his place, and love her properly. Long and hard and deep… and then make her coffee in the morning. Then they’d make love again, then shower, then get filthy all over again. They’d talk too, talk until they wanted to do anything and everything except talk. God, he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know every single damn thing about this beautiful, passionate, wild-eyed angel.
Zoe, meanwhile, was starting to think that Scars had to be ready to let her go by now. He’d had his fun, after all, and she had an early morning. She wriggled away a bit, and was startled when he gave a low growl and held her close again.
Huh. A biker who likes to cuddle. Who the hell would ever have thunk it?
Ignoring how good it felt to be held against that hot, hard body, Zoe pulled away more forcefully this time. She stood up, located her bra and panties, started to put on her shirt.
“Hey.” Scars sat up straighter, a look of confusion on his rugged face. “Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”
“Home.” She turned slightly, yanked on her skirt. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Keira, remember.”
“Awesome.” He got to his feet too, totally unselfconscious about his nudity. But then again, why the hell would he be? Hundreds of women had seen him like this, she figured, and God knows, the view was spectacular. Every impressive inch of it. “I wouldn’t mind doing that all again in a bed.”
“Whoa. Wait.” She blinked. “What?”
“What what?” he rejoined with a grin. “You really think I’m letting you go that easy, beautiful?”
Zoe’s breath stopped. She actually stopped breathing. Was he going to physically stop her form leaving? Restrain her? Hold her against her will?
Scars must have seen something on her face, because he stared at her. “Zoe? You good?”
She nodded and backed up, her heart in her throat, looking for her stupid shoes. Praying the whole damn time that she was overreacting.
He watched her move away from him, wondering why she was as white as a sheet of paper. He disliked her pallor, and he disliked her getting dressed at warp-speed even more. He knew that he had to lock this down before she got into her shoes and hit the door.
“So, as I was saying,” he continued. “I’m coming with you, OK?”
“You – you what?” she stammered, totally wrong-footed. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You’ve ruined me for all other women… utterly ruined me.”
She stared at him. “Ummmm. What?”
“Yeah.” Slowly, like he had all the time in the world, Scars put his boxer shorts back on. “I’d love to come with you, do it all again on a nice soft mattress. Then I’d like to get a few hours sleep, wake up, have you scratch up my back some more, with lots of talking in between. I mean… I’m an awesome bedmate. Don’t snore, don’t steal the covers, and I’m a super-comfy pillow to fall asleep on.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t sleep with men in my bed.”
That stopped him, and he cocked his dark head at her. “You don’t?”
“Never.”
“How come?”
“Because I can’t fall asleep with a man in my bed. I sure as hell can’t fall asleep with a man touching me.”
“So, wait… you never fall asleep in a man’s arms?”
“Never have.”
“Well.” He grinned at her. “That’s because you’ve never met the right guy.”
“I still haven’t.”
“Hey, Zoe… c’mon.” He shook his head. “Look, this was amazing, right? Why not have some more?”
“More?”
“More kissing. More touching. More orgasms. More laughing. More talking. More of everything. Just – more. I mean, why not? Neither one of us has to be anywhere before noon, so why not spend the night together?”
She sighed. He was being very upfront about the fact that he just wanted one night of orgasms and fun with her, just ‘more’ fucking. She supposed that women usually fell for this whole zealous, passionate, ‘let’s cuddle and wake up together’ line. She had to admit, it was tempting, as was the thought of more earth-shattering orgasms.
But that was pointless, all of it. She’d needed some fun, and so had he, and it was now post-fun time. Her gorgeous no-strings stress-release had come through amazingly well – and this was now the time that they were both supposed to go their separate ways. No hard feelings, no expectations, no plans for the future.
So why the hell was Scars acting like this was a damn date?
“You’re not coming with me,” she snapped, angry that he was trying to unilaterally change the universal code of totally meaningless one-night-stands. “End of discussion.”
He stood still, studying her body language. Man, she was as cold as ice all of a sudden, and it was a jarring contrast to her heated writhing and moaning of less than five minutes before.
“I’m really not?” he said carefully.
“No.” She stuck her feet into her shoes. “You’re staying here and looking for your next fuck.”
Dumbfounded, he stared at her. “My next…”
“Yeah. Your next willing female. A handsome boy like you, you have your choice, I’m sure, so you can still do it in a bed tonight, if you want.” She nodded over at the far corner. “Oh, look. There’s one right over there, just waiting for you and your next mark.”
“OK, stop.” He shook his head, strangely hurt, but also very, very pissed off. “That’s bullshit is what that is, and…”
Suddenly feeling that it was imperative that she get the hell out of there now, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d fall into his arms and beg him to come home with her, she grabbed her purse, swung it over her shoulder.
“Thanks, Scars,” she muttered, avoiding all eye contact. “It was fun. See you around.”
“Wait. Zoe, wait.” He took three long strides and put his hand on the door to stop her from bolting. “Can I see you again?”
She stared up at him. “I work for The Road Devils now, Scars. Of course you’re going to see me again.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, tried not to notice that she moved away from his touch, and he fumbled a bit, didn’t find quite the right words for what he really wanted. He put his hand on the wall next to her, trying to find his balance there. “I meant… see you again like this.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows at him. So maybe he really was into repeat performances after all, huh? She supposed that meant that he was one of those guys in the MC who had his stable of eager and favored women that he was very possessive of, who all stood around the bar, preening and prancing, trying to get his attention. Hoping that they’d be chosen to be the woman of the night that night. That he’d go back to their place and be a great bedmate and pillow with them.
Well, as much as she’d enjoyed herself, no way she was the ‘pick me!’ type. She wasn’t much of a joiner, really, and wasn’t flattered that he seemed to want to add her to his harem of owned objects.
Scars was a much-needed stress-release, and he was damn good at what he did in the bedroom. She’d definitely benefited from his wealth of experience with the ladies, and she wasn’t complaining or judging. But she also wasn’t into playing this kind of bullshit game. She wanted permanence and safety, both for herself and for Keira.
And this scowling, scarred, tattooed biker didn’t look permanent or safe.
“Don’t worry about it, Scars.” She ducked under his outstretched arm now, got the door open. “I know this kind of thing means nothing at all to you boys, so there’s no need for you to pretend it does. I’m cool with it being what it is, so there’s no sense you faking being the commitment type to stroke my ego.” Zoe flashed him a gorgeous smile. “I know the score, and I played the game knowing what I was getting into. So thanks for the good time, and go on back to your regulars. I’m sure you’ve got a few waiting on you out there, who’ll be thrilled to take you home.”
Stunned by her words, this time Scars let her go. And he watched the only woman that he’d ever fallen for at goddamn first sight just waltz right on out of Satan’s Bar.
Dreams do come true, man… and then they’re taken away from you.
Well. Fuck. That.