He had her pinned to the wall with his body, his hands snarled into her amazing hair, and his tongue deep in her mouth. Against his much greater size and weight, she struggled, writhing and pushing, but he couldn’t tell if she was trying to push him off or to participate. Her tongue tangling with his seemed to be a sign for the latter.
She worked her hands from between their bodies and pushed them around to claw at the back of his shirt, catching fistfuls of cheap cotton and dragging the back of his shirt up. Her nails raked bare skin at his lower back, and he flinched. She responded by clamping her teeth down on his lip.
Participating, then.
He threw himself backward, freed of her teeth and hands. Getting a firm grasp on her arms, he flung her around, shoving her against the side of the counter. She grunted on the impact, and her arms flailed out, sweeping both mugs to the floor with a wet crash.
Anger and need wrestled in his chest. Christ, he was confused. He should have let her walk away. Why the hell hadn’t he?
Because she’d turned around, and that cute, skinny little ass of hers, the one now pressed up on his cock, had swayed just right as she’d taken a rocky sidestep. She’d been too drunk to drive, and he had a conscience.
She was probably too drunk for this, too. He’d tasted the cheap wine on her tongue. But fuck, his sour mood had him jacked up, and she’d fluttered those hazel eyes at him, and he didn’t know which end was up. That little giggle in her message. Stumbling over the word sec.
She’d just about blown the whole thing up with that last sentence, though. I don’t want to spend the night. Goddammit. The impulse to shake her or slap her fought hard with the need to fuck her.
He had no clue why it pissed him off so much. All damn week, he’d been vexed. Seeing her standing on his porch tonight, holding the wad of her note, he’d felt guilty and angry—and relieved. Fucking excited, even. The whole thing gave him a headache.
I don’t want to spend the night. Like he’d asked her to, or expected her to. He hadn’t, and he didn’t. But it pissed him off that she’d thrown that between them, just when things had turned for the better.
Yanking him around like he was on a leash. What the hell was going on?
He should have let her walk away.
But he hadn’t, and here she was, and fuck, his churning snake pit of weird feelings only had him hotter and harder for her.
Snatching her jeans open, he bent forward over her back and snarled at her ear, “I’m gonna give you so much sex you’re gonna need a goddamn ice pack.”
She thrust her little heart-shaped ass back, grinding against him. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”
He yanked her jeans down her thighs. Her purple thong stayed in place, but it wasn’t in his way. God, he loved thongs. So convenient. Pulling that thin band of sodden purple floss to the side with one hand, he used the other to open his belt and jeans and pull his cock out over his boxer briefs.
Deb was on birth control, but she wanted him to use a condom, since he fucked sweetbutts and randoms, too. Right now, though, hot and bothered in more ways than one, he didn’t want to take the time.
When he pushed his naked rod at her, she grunted again and shifted, making herself as available to him as she could within the bind of her jeans around her legs, and goddamn, her pussy was wet, so Simon just shoved himself right on in. Her body clamped around his instantly and drew him even deeper, and he bit down on his sore lip to keep from shouting.
She cried out, and her head flew back so hard that her hair whipped him in the face and caught in his beard. The arm not pinned under her body flailed around again, and he grabbed it, hooking his arm around her elbow and pulling it back, restraining her.
They were both too wound up for this to be anything but a hard, fast fuck, and Simon didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. He slammed into her, grunting with every impact, shoving her body hard against the counter. Dimly, he heard her gasping grunts echoing his.
He didn’t have enough of her, couldn’t get enough, wanted everything. Letting go of her arm, he snatched a handful of wild hair and dragged her up and back, until her body crashed into his and knocked all their breath away. The room went almost silent for that half second until they could inhale again.
Deb raised her arms and reached back to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull. The move arched her chest up, and Simon made good use of the chance. He pushed up her shirt and found her bare breasts—she only wore a bra about half the time. Her nipples were hard and extended, dominating those small swells. He trapped them between his fingers and pulled.
“Oh fuck!” she panted. “Harder! Yeah!”
He obeyed everywhere, pounding into her harder, pulling harder on her nipples, biting down on her earlobe. Her juices ran and wet the tops of his thighs, and he tugged yet harder, distending her nipples until their soft brown color seemed to fade.
A hoarse, warlike shout erupted from her mouth, and then she went quiet and tense, her hands pulling with such force that strands of his hair ripped free of his scalp. Only her ass moved, countering his thrusts. The rolling spasms of her orgasm around him nearly drove him mad, but he held off, choking off his own need with every ounce of will he had. He didn’t want to come, not yet, not even as she drove herself hard on him, milking every bit of pleasure from her climax that she could.
The very second she began to relax, he rocked his hips back and pulled out. He’d surprised her; she whined and flinched.
“I’m not done with you.” He grabbed her up, tossing her over his shoulder. With a hard slap to her ass, he stalked from the kitchen and headed to the bedroom.
Coasting on the bliss of her orgasm, Deb let him toss her to the bed and undress her. She lay naked and sprawled, fingering herself lightly, pussy and tit, and watched while he shed his own clothes.
Her long, slim legs splayed wide, and the lingering wet of her orgasm glistened in the gleam of the overhead light. Playing in her curls, her fingers glistened, too. While he watched, she gave her clit a light pinch and flexed into the pleasure. Damn.
Her moan curled through the air as she pushed fingers in, and she lifted her eyes to his. “You said you weren’t done with me. You gonna watch me get myself off, or are you gonna do it for me?”
He switched on the lamp on his nightstand, walked naked to the door, and flipped the overhead off. His cock stood out like a tree branch; every brush and bounce was like an electric kiss. Anger had yielded to need somewhere in the middle of their kitchen fuck, and all Simon could think of now was getting back into her hot, wet body.
She’d sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed. When he walked to her, she grabbed his cock and dragged him sharply forward. The pull and pressure shot through him like lightning and pushed a groan past his lips. Her tongue made a hungry swipe of her lips, and she sucked him into her beautiful mouth.
“Ah, fuck,” he muttered and fed his hands into her hair, twisting the curls around his fingers and holding her in place as she sucked him like a popsicle. When he tried to fuck her mouth, though, she pulled back, lifting an enigmatic grin at him.
“Get down here,” she purred, and Simon came down to the bed, forcing her back as he climbed on, over her. He pushed her legs up, meaning to hook them over his shoulders, but instead she caught them behind her own arms, spreading herself wide open, her pretty pussy offered up to him like a feast.
Unable to resist that offer, he set his hands on her thighs and bent down to cover her with his mouth, sucking her juices. He knew her taste better than any other woman’s, and it was sweet to him, like salted caramel. As those words flitted around in his head, he chuckled. He wasn’t a poet, or especially romantic, and hadn’t ever made such a florid comparison before. Whatever she tasted like, he enjoyed having his mouth full of her.
His chuckle made her squirm and flutter, and she snatched at his hair, yanking like she meant to drag his full weight up that way. “Get inside me!”
Letting his beard swish back and forth over her clit, smiling at the tiny tremors across her undernourished belly, he said. “I’ll get in when I’m good and ready.”
Truth was, he was beyond ready, but he loved the hell out of her frustrated howl and the way she fought to free herself from her position. She’d pinned her own self down, hooking her legs behind her arms like that; he could hardly be faulted for taking advantage of the opportunity she’d offered him. So he denied himself a little longer and fed on her, lapping through her folds, dipping down to circle his tongue around the pleats of her anus.
As he flicked around that small iris, she rocked her body and moaned. “Fuck, Simon, fuck! I need…”
“What do you need?” He moved up and flicked the point of his tongue over her clit.
“I need to come!” she gasped. “Come on!”
“I already got you off once, greedy girl. You can’t need it again already. What do you need?” He pushed two fingers inside her, and she rocked so high, most of her back was off the bed. He had to change positions to keep contact with her.
“I need it again!” He pulled his fingers from her, and her eyes flashed wide. “Fuck you! Don’t tease!”
“I’m not teasing.” He sucked her clit and pulled back until it popped from his lips and she squealed. “You need that?”
“I need your goddamn cock!” she snarled. “What the hell, Simon?” Now she was really fighting against the bind of his hands and her own pretzeled body.
He didn’t rightly know what that hell. A need of his own had taken over Simon’s mind, and his body with it, and it rode him hard. He knew the answer he was looking for, but he didn’t know why, and it freaked him out nearly as much as it was starting to freak Deb.
But he couldn’t back off. The need was real and urgent. His heart banged with its demand.
Held in thrall, he again used his beard to torment her, brushing it over all the sensitive skin between her slender thighs without giving her any of the pressure or penetration that would satisfy. “Tell me what you need.”
She writhed and rocked, sending her hair flying over his linens. “Fuck! Simon! Please! I need…”
Abandoning his play between her thighs, he surged up and loomed over her. “Say it, goddammit!”
He’d barked the words at her, no longer teasing, and Deb went still. Her complexion red, her hair wild, her lovely eyes wide, she stared up at him. The only sound in the room was the stentorian chug of their breathing.
He knew what he needed, and he knew there was nothing but trouble in it. But if she would say it, too, then maybe that would be enough. Just knowing that he hadn’t lost his head over nothing. If it was just said out loud, they could deal and move on.
“Say it, Deb. What do you need?”
She worked one arm free; his weight on her thigh shifted when that arm no longer held it up, and he had her splayed about as wide as could be. Between them, his cock throbbed.
Taking hold of his beard, as she liked to do, Deb took a shaky breath. “You. I need you.”
And that was what he’d needed to hear. She pulled on his beard, and he sank down and into her, his tongue filling her mouth as his cock filled her pussy. She unwound from her pretzel and wrapped those thin legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. They kissed and fucked and held onto each other as release rocketed through him, and through her right after. Even so, they didn’t pull away, but shouted and grunted into each other’s mouths until they were spent.
As soon as his body was under his control again, Simon shifted off of her and settled on his side beside her.
She turned and faced him, tucking her hands under her head. “What just happened?”
He brushed her hair from her face. “Something that’s been happening for a while, I think.”
She took his hand and brought it to her lips. “Something that can’t happen.”
“No, it can’t.” All the reasons they’d stayed fuck buddies and hidden it from everyone were the same reasons they couldn’t be more than fuck buddies. And about fifty new reasons on top.
“Max would never be able to deal with it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
The Bulls had always babied Gunner, like a vat of nitroglycerine in their midst. He’d been calmer now for a decent while, but if anything would set him to explode, it would be a threat to his family. And he’d see Simon as that threat. Not because Gunner didn’t trust him—though maybe he wouldn’t completely trust anyone with Deb—but because the Bulls brought danger into their loved ones’ lives, and Deb and Sam were deep enough in as it was.
That was what it really was—setting Gunner’s feelings aside, Simon could not in good conscience bring a woman into his life and ask her to mold herself to him. Because his life was rigid and unforgiving. There wasn’t room for parity in a relationship with an outlaw. He’d seen it again and again. Even the strongest women had to shape themselves to the Bulls. Whatever life they made beyond that always came second to their place beside their men.
Where she was in the club now, Deb could still say no when the club needed or wanted something. The club made requests of extended family. They made demands of their women. There was no other way it could work.
Maybe when they’d been small-time outlaws. But now they were in the big leagues, deep in organized crime, and he couldn’t ask any woman, let alone Deb, to give herself over to the relentless secrets and dangers. He had considerable respect for all the old ladies, for their patience and loyalty, for their grit and compassion. Their resilience astounded him. He understood why his brothers had wanted to claim such women. But he couldn’t bring himself to make the same demands on one of his own.
It was why he’d been fucking sweetbutts and randoms and going home alone and lonely for fifteen years.
But Gunner and the problems he’d have with their relationship made a tidy stand-in for all that mess Simon couldn’t articulate.
“I can’t leave my dad on his own,” she said, offering up another reason into the silence his thoughts had made.
“I know.”
That, Simon thought, was Deb’s issue, not her father’s. Her father was getting along in years, but he was robust and far from helpless. Deb liked her life, she was comfortable and content there, and she used her father as an excuse not to feel bad about being a thirty-something-year old woman who lived at home—and not to get too close to anyone else.
“I have to put family first.”
“So do I.” A schism between him and Gunner right now could fracture the club, and they needed to be strong and whole. They faced a war, coming up on them at any time.
That war was the reason for all the other reasons, really.
With a sad sigh, she combed her fingers through his beard. “So what does that mean?”
The answer was pretty simple, though it punched him in the chest. This was the focus of all his angst and anger this past week—he hadn’t been angry at Deb. He’d been angry at these feelings finally bubbling up to the surface and demanding to be noticed. He’d been angry at himself for thinking he could be fuck buddies with a woman he liked so much, spend a year and a half having fantastic sex with her, and not end up falling for her.
Because there was nowhere for them to go with such feelings. “I think it means we have to stop.”
Her nod and sad laugh told him that she was feeling just the same. “I don’t think this is usually how things go.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think people usually break up when they realize they…they care about each other.”
In that hesitation, he heard the word she hadn’t said, and he was grateful it hadn’t escaped her lips. What he’d have done with that, he had no clue, but it would have hurt. “Probably not. But nothing about my life has ever been usual.” He hooked his hand around her neck and tucked her to his chest. She fit really well against him. With her head tucked under his chin, all their parts lined up for maximum intimacy.
“Yeah, mine either. Fuck, Simon.”
“Yeah. But we’ve got tonight.”
Her shoulders shook with a laugh. “You sound like Bob Seger.”
“Hey—that’s a great song.” And fitting, actually. So fitting that he shoved the lyrics out of his head before they made him maudlin.
For just a minute or two, they lay twined and quiet. Simon knew she wouldn’t stay much longer; they’d gotten a late start on this encounter, and it was past one in the morning. The only time she’d stayed later than two, she’d fallen asleep and managed to tear off the façade of their fuck-buddiness.
Her body swelled with a deep breath. It came out on a sigh, and Simon knew what she’d say. “I should go.”
“I know.” He leaned back and lifted her chin on his finger. “I’ll make you a fresh cup of coffee before you go.”
“Oh, shit—there’s a mess in there.” She bit her bottom lip, as if the memory of how the cups had smashed on the floor had brought with it the feeling of the fuck, too. It had for him, and his cock pulsed and thickened.
“I’ll deal with it later. You wash up and get dressed, and I’ll get your coffee.”
~oOo~
When she was tidied up and dressed, and he had her properly caffeinated for the long drive home, Simon took Deb’s hand and walked her to his door.
He’d never done that before. He’d gone to the door with her, sure, but this was different. And the goodbye kiss—pushing her to the wall, holding her head in both hands, her hands moving over his body like she owned it—that was unique as well. Always before, they’d ended the night with a hug. A friendly hug, redrawing the boundary around who and what they were, after being all up in each other in the most intimate ways.
Now that pretense was unnecessary. When he finally pulled back, he was hard and ready to go again. He’d only pulled his underwear on, so his condition would have been obvious even if he hadn’t just been pressed fully on her.
She smiled and gave his hard cock and sweet, possessive squeeze. “Sorry to leave you like this.”
All he could do was grin back with a shrug.
Then her expression softened, turned serious. She looked up into his eyes. “I think I’ve been falling—”
He covered her mouth with his fingers before any dangerous words came out. “Don’t, Deb. Don’t say it.”
She pulled his hand away but kept hold of it. “You know what I was going to say.”
He nodded.
“Because you feel the same.”
For the same reasons he couldn’t let her say the words, he couldn’t agree with her. But he wouldn’t say no, either. “This can’t happen.” Goddamn, this hurt. It was like he couldn’t get all the breath he needed.
Her head dropped. “I know. So, we’re what? Going to keep pretending we’re just friends?”
He lifted her chin and made her meet his eyes. “I haven’t been pretending to be your friend, Deb. Have you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then we still won’t be pretending. We’ll be doing what we’ve been doing all this time—behaving like we’re friends, because we are, and that’s all we can be.”
“Okay. I should go, then.” She lifted her arms, and Simon came in for a hug.
A friendly hug. It fucking hurt.
As he stood on the threshold and watched her wagon pull out of his driveway, a strange ringing tone interrupted the deep quiet of his empty house. It took him a second to understand what it was—the new cellphone.
Club business. At two o’clock on a Saturday morning. That meant trouble.
Any doubts he’d harbored about sending Deb away died right there.