CHAPTER FIVE:
If I had needed anymore proof that the Hell’s Horsemen were into some seriously illegal shit, other than their alliance with my father, all I had to do was take one look at their clubhouse.
Smack dab in the middle of the Montana hills, down a barely there dirt road, fenced in with an electric fence topped with razor wire, sat their whitewashed warehouse, massive at around 30,000 square feet, with their insignia painted huge on the front of the building. A line of Harley's were parked outside, some pickup trucks and a shiny red sports car.
I pulled our rent-a-car up to the gate and peered into the camera. The intercom underneath crackled.
“Help you with somethin’ darlin’?”
I cleared my throat. I was so nervous.
“I…um…wanted to…um...”
“Smooth Evie,” Kami whispered. “Really smooth.”
I glared at her.
“You here to party?” The intercom crackled.
“Uh,” I said and glanced at Kami. She bugged out her eyes. “Say yes you idiot!”
“Uh, yes.”
The gate clicked and slowly swung open and Kami started jumping around excitedly.
I had just parked when two guys came running outside. Kami grinned.
“H-O-T,” She spelled out. “Me wanna lick.”
I gave a shaky laugh. My stomach was in knots. I hadn’t seen Deuce in four years. Not since the night I’d given him my virginity. I wasn’t sure how he was going to react to me just showing up.
A well-built, good-looking Latino guy with a shaved head, lots of body piercings and tattoos as far as the eye could see, grinned at us.
“Name’s Cox,” He said, looking me up and down. “This is Ripper.” He jerked his thumb at the man standing next to him. A drop dead gorgeous man. He looked like a surfer straight out of Cali. Long wavy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. There was man candy to be had all around.
“Hey,” Ripper greeted, his eyes on Kami. "You two been here before?”
I shook my head. “I’m looking for Deuce.”
“I’m not,” Kami said, “I’m looking for you.”
I covered my mouth, stifling my laughter.
“Or you,” She said to Cox, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter.”
Cox and Ripper looked at each other.
“Don’t wanna fight you brother,” Ripper said. “But I fuckin’ will.”
“You’ll lose,” Cox growled.
“Boys?” Kami swept her long blonde hair over her shoulder and cocked her hip. “This is my last summer of freedom. My dad is a rich asshole who is making me marry another rich asshole. I have three months left before I become a proper little Jackie O and have to start fucking my staff just so I can get off. That being said, if you guys don’t mind sharing, I’ve got a whole lot to give.”
“I don’t,” Cox said quickly.
“Nope, me either,” Ripper said.
“Awesome, now do you have any liquor in this big scary building of yours?”
Ripper grabbed her elbow, Cox slung his arm over her shoulder and they steered her towards the clubhouse.
Sheesh. It was like I was invisible.
Rolling my eyes, I followed them inside.
All around me were bikers ranging from age eighteen to eighty and the sluts who loved them. I realized that the Hell's Horsemen were having what my boys in New York called a “pussy party” which was undoubtedly the only reason Kami and I had been allowed inside. I scanned the room looking for Deuce
The inside of the warehouse looked nothing like the outside. The entire place had been gutted, renovated and remodeled. Running the length of the warehouse front was one giant man cave with fifteen, sixteen, foot ceilings and modern sunroofs that gave it a cathedral like appearance.
A fully stocked bar lined the entire right side of the room surrounded by several bar topped tables and stools, and beyond, five large pool tables took up a good portion of the room. The opposite side gave the impression of a high-class men’s club complete with dark leather furniture as far as the eye could see, flat screen televisions, and a state of the art stereo system. There were two hallway entrances on either side of the back wall and smack dab in the center were a set of doors surrounded by photographs of the members. Above the doors was plank of wood nailed to the wall that read, “Prez’s Office”. My heart started pounding and my hands went clammy.
I willed my feet to move and headed towards his office. Taking a deep breath, I curled my hand into a fist and rapped on the door.
“WHAT?”
Oh god, that voice. That hard, rough, beautiful voice.
I swallowed hard and turned the knob.
I saw a woman first. Tall, blonde, very tan and curvy as hell. Beautiful. She was wearing a tight jeans skirt, frayed at the bottom and a hot pink tank top that showed off her copious amount of cleavage. I had large breasts but I almost never put them on display unless I was going out. I just didn't see the point.
I glanced down at my Led Zeppelin cropped tee, way too baggy jeans that hung low and my chucks. The tee had once belonged to my mother and I'd altered it to make it more my style and to show off my belly ring and the circle of black and pink stars I'd had tattooed around my belly button. The jeans I'd had forever, I wasn't even sure where I'd gotten them, Frankie, maybe? That had been a running theme during my teenage years, stealing his clothing. They were comfy and so deliciously worn in they felt like silk against my skin. Most importantly, they dragged when I walked. That was a thing for me. I liked to be able to hide my feet inside my pants at all costs. Weird, I know, but I was an only child, and a girl no less, who grew up with a single MC President, his crew and Crazy Frankie. I could have turned out a whole lot weirder.
But I felt like a homeless person next to this woman. This, super model sort of beautiful woman who was more than likely his wife.
Deuce was turned away from me, sitting behind his desk, cursing into a cell phone. Blue file folders were stacked on the corner of his desk beside a black laptop. Miscellaneous papers were strewn all over his desk and the floor beside him.
Whoever had decorated the office was either secretly gay or of the female variety. Although the dark oak desk, hutch and meeting table were distinctly male, no man, correction – no biker, would have ever picked out these particular pieces to coordinate with each other. They were too perfect, each piece different yet worked fashionably together. A woman, I surmised, probably this woman, had a hand in decorating. Knowing this made me feel incredibly uncomfortable.
The blonde glanced over at me, gave me a once over and her pink painted lips curled into a sneer. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I…um…was looking for Deuce.”
“Well you…um…fuckin’ found him.”
Sheesh. Attitude.
“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Deuce growled into his phone. “You tell Street he gets his ass to the docks and picks up the shipment or I will fuckin’ bury your chapter! You feel me? I will scatter your boys and take you to ground! You don’t fuckin’ mess with the Buonarroti family! I made fuckin’ promises and I’m aim to keep them. A man's fuckin' word is a man's fuckin' word. You think this is a game? No? Good. Now get your fuckin’ ass in gear!”
He swiveled around, his narrowed eyes swept over the blonde, across the room, and then finally to me. And stared.
He had let his beard grow out, there were signs of gray interspersed among the blonde and a few lines around his eyes. I sucked in a breath. He'd grown even more beautiful with age.
“Gotta go,” He said to his phone and tossed it on the desk.
I cleared my throat. “I was in the neighborhood,” I said dumbly. “Thought I’d stop by.”
“You were in the neighborhood,” He repeated.
I nodded. Wow. I was such an idiot. If she’d heard this, Kami would have kicked my ass.
“Cole,” The woman hissed. “Who the fuck is this girl?”
I had never heard anyone call Deuce anything but Deuce. I knew his real name, Cole West, but it didn’t fit. Deuce, meaning “Devil”, fit him.
Deuce blinked and looked back at the blonde. "Get the fuck outta here, Christine. You got your fuckin' money, now go."
He glanced back at me and I watched his icy blues drink me in from head to toe and back up again, stopping on his father’s medallion. His lips curved into a smile.
I felt my body go soft, warm and needy. He did this to me just by looking at me. His power over me was incredible, indescribable, as it had always been. It didn't matter that I hadn't seen him in four years; I wanted him every bit as badly as the last time and the time before that. Even more because I’d had him and had craved him ever since.
He saw the change in me, noticed it instantly. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened with hunger. I knew this look. Deuce was hungry. I was food.
I loved that look. It made me feel beautiful, powerful and utterly feminine.
I sucked in air through my nose willing myself to stay put when I wanted nothing more than to run to him, strip him naked and fuck him blind.
“You here alone?” He asked roughly.
I shook my head. “Brought Kami with me.”
His eyes narrowed and I stifled a laugh. He obviously remembered her.
“Where is she?”
“Entertaining a few of your boys.”
He smirked. “Cox?”
“And Ripper.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nice.”
“Cole! Who the fuck is this bitch and why the fuck is she wearin’ a Horsemen tag?”
His head swiveled back to Christine. “What the fuck did I say to you? Get the fuck outta here!”
Her face went arctic. Glacial. “No,” She hissed. “Tell me why this little girl is standin’ in your office wearin' a Horsemen tag! Old ladies don’t get ‘em, kids don’t get ‘em unless they get a cut and ain't no girl ever got a cut and whores sure as fuck don’t get em. So why the fuck does this bitch have one!"
Deuce stood up. His Harley belt buckle sagged low on low rise, baggy jeans, jeans that were as equally holey as his white tee shirt. To quote Kami, “H-O-T”.
"Get out," He growled.
"TELL ME WHY SHE'S WEARIN' IT!"
Deuce's fists came slamming down on his desk sending papers and file folders flying everywhere. "Because I fuckin' gave it to her!"
Christine's head snapped sideways. "You little fuckin' whore!" She screamed.
My mouth fell open and I took a step backwards. This was exactly why my father didn't allow his boy's old ladies in the club unless it was a planned visit or a Sunday barbeque.
"Christine!" Deuce bellowed. Take the money you came for and get your fuckin' ass outta here!"
Ignoring Deuce, she kept her frightening gaze on me. "What the fuck did you have to do to get that?" She hissed. "You some kinda kinky fucked up whore who takes on three brothers at a time? Was that your fuckin' prize for being such a goddamn slut, for fuckin' other women's men? You fuckin' proud of yourself you stupid little skank bitch?"
Wow. Just…wow. How did one respond to that?
I looked to Deuce for help. I didn't know what to do or say, or if I should do or say anything at all. This hadn't gone at all like I’d planned. Not that I'd actually planned on anything specific happening, only vague scenarios all including Deuce without pants on and being really happy to see me. Being screamed at by Deuce's wife, I can honestly say, hadn't crossed my mind.
"Christine," He growled low. Scary low. "Only gonna say this one more time. Get your fuckin' ass outta my club."
"I'm gonna bleed you dry," She hissed. "Gonna take everything you fuckin' have, gonna take your kids, your money, and when I tell the fuckin' cops what goes on round here, I'm gonna take your fuckin' freedom."
This had gone past uncomfortable and well into hazardous. I should never have come here. Since they were busy glaring at one another I started backing out of the room and backed right into a hard body.
The biker standing behind me I recognized. His name was Mick and I had seen him here and there growing up. His messy black hair hung long. He had pretty green eyes and a well trimmed goatee. He was tall, leanly muscled and looked extremely pissed off.
“Prez?” He asked. “You need help with this bitch?”
Deuce was rounding his desk and advancing on Christine. She met him head on, swinging her purse through the air. He ducked, grabbed her purse strap, and barreled into her. She went up and over his shoulder, screaming and flailing.
Deuce, with Christine, stalked across the room. Mick and I hurried out of the way. As soon as Deuce was gone, Mick turned to me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He growled.
My mouth opened but no sound came out. What?
He shook his head, glaring at me. “Thought Deuce learned his lesson when Preacher put him the hospital but, christ, the two of you just keep goin’ back for more.”
My heart stopped beating. “What did you say?” I whispered.
“Your old man, babe. Capped him twice, he nearly bled out. He was in surgery for a fuckin’ minute. Needed a transfusion. Was in the hospital for weeks.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to process everything he'd just said. Shot him twice? Bled out. Surgery. Transfusion.
“Because of me?” I whispered. My voice caught and my eyes filled with tears. I hadn’t known. If I had, I would have stayed away from him. Never ever would I have put Deuce in danger. God, I was so stupid. Stupid to push him into having sex with me. Stupid to think my father wouldn't know. He always knew, he knew everything.
☼☼☼
“Go,” Deuce demanded, pushing his wife toward her car. “Now.”
“Who is that?” She screeched. He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing. God, this fucking woman.
“She is none of your fuckin’ business, bitch. Now fuckin’ go.”
“I fuckin’ saw the way you were lookin’ at her! You’ve never looked at me that way! Never!”
“Never looked at you like much of anything cuz you’re not much of anything ‘cept a crazy fuckin’ bitch.”
She came at him, fake nails flying. Grabbing her shoulders, he threw her up against her car. "Get the fuck outta here!" He bellowed.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” She demanded. “What’s she got that I don’t?”
He let her go and backed away from her. “What’s wrong with you?” He sneered. “You’re not her, that’s what’s wrong with you. What’s she got that you don’t? Bitch, she’s got me and you never fuckin' did.”
He watched her suck in air. She blinked rapidly trying to stop the tears he knew were coming. He wanted to care, he really did, but he didn't. Not anymore. Too much ugly shit had gone down between them over the years, for too many fucking years. Met her at twenty five, married her when she got pregnant, lived in misery with her ever since. There is only so much nagging, screaming and crying a man can take. He had stopped fucking her years ago and now he could barely stomach looking at her.
"Leavin' you Christine, gonna move into the cabin," He said quietly. "Can't do this shit no more. Haven't slept at home in over a year, you been showin' up here demandin' money, throwin' attitude around and just plain pissin' me off with your fuckin' threats. Can't do it no more."
She put her hand on her throat and her giant diamond engagement ring caught the sun. He had taken his ring off years ago, not to pick up women, that had never been a problem, but because looking at it made him sick.
"You gave her a tag," She whispered hoarsely. "You don't let any of your boys give their women tags."
He stared at her. "She doesn’t belong to one of my boys, she's fuckin’ mine."
It hit him then how right that sounded. Four years had gone by since he'd been inside her, four years of thinking about her, wondering what she was doing, who she was doing.
Always thinking about her.
“Cole,” She whispered. “Don’t do this. We can make it work, we’ve done it before.”
"Go," He barked. "Don't fuckin' come back here."
He left her crying and stalked back inside. He had just reached his office when what he heard from inside made his blood boil.
“Yeah babe. He almost died. Because of you. So I’m standin’ here, lookin’ at you, wonderin’ why the fuck he thinks you’re fuckin’ worth gettin’ shot for cuz I sure as fuck ain't seein’ it. You got a golden pussy or somethin’? Or was it the fuckin' innocent act he’s likin'?”
“What the fuck,” He seethed.
Mick whirled around. A quick glance at Eva only enraged him further. She was shaking, trembling, tears pouring down her face.
Mick met him glare for glare. “She needed to know what the fuck you'd gone through just to get some underage Demon pussy who ain’t all that anyway.”
He saw red. He saw mother-fucking-red.
He swung, his right fist then his left then his right again. Mick blew backwards with every hit until he ran out of room and hit wall. Grabbing Mick’s shirt collar he got up in his face.
“Take off your fuckin’ cut and get the fuck outta my club.”
Mick’s eyes went wide. “You can’t -
He swung his fist into Mick’s jaw and the brother’s face whipped right and hit brick. “I fuckin’ can. You got no idea what you just messed with. No fuckin’ clue. You think you know but you fuckin’ don’t cuz I didn't tell you shit about it cuz it's none of your fuckin' business. So you take off your fuckin’ cut and go the fuck home and when I fuckin’ feel like it, I’ll send Cox to bring you back.”
Still holding Mick’s shirt he yanked him away from the wall and swung him out of his office. Mick hit the floor and went sliding across the room. Jase jumped out the way and Mick crashed into a pool table.
“Get him outta here,” He growled to no one in particular. “Anyone else got somethin’ to say to Eva or somethin’ to say about her you’re gonna answer to my fuckin’ fist. We fuckin' clear?”
He received a series of grunts and nods during which he slammed the doors closed and locked them.
“Eva, babe, look at me.”
She shook her head. “I should leave,” She whispered brokenly. His chest went tight. No way was he letting her leave.
“Eva,” He said forcefully. “Fuckin’ look at me!”
Hugging herself, she turned away from him. “I got you shot,” She whispered.
Fuck.
“EVA, FUCK! FUCKIN’ LOOK AT ME BEFORE I SPANK THE FUCKIN’ SHIT OUTTA YOU!”
Her head jerked up and her narrowed eyes zoomed in on him. He grinned.
"Babe, don’t you fuckin’ dare think any of that shit was your fault. It was mine darlin’, plain and simple. I shoulda left you alone but I couldn't fuckin' help myself. Marriage had already gone bad and I saw you sittin' there, with a pair of great fuckin' tits, tappin' your chucks and bobbin' your head and singin' your heart out to fuckin' Zepplin. And you looked so damn innocent and fuckin' sweet as hell, without a care in the fuckin' world except for right then, right there. And I was so fuckin' jealous, would've given an arm and a leg to have life be that simple again. And then that little shit head showed up and I knew he fuckin' worshipped you and then I heard that shit he said to you and knew wasn't nothin' gonna make that boy back off until he got inside your sweet pussy and so I kissed you babe, cuz I was selfish, I wanted to taste that fuckin’ sweetness before he took it all.
"And babe, when I kissed you and you kissed me back, not knowing what the fuck you were doin' but doin' it anyway, not carin', just feelin', I fuckin' lost myself in that kiss. Couldn’t remember ever losin' myself in a kiss until then.
"That fuckin' kiss, Eva, has gotten me through some pretty bad nights. That fuckin' kiss reminds me that life ain't all bad.
"As for what happened in that alleyway, you’re old man never found out about it. But even if he had and he’d buried me I wouldn’t have fuckin’ cared cuz when it comes to you darlin’ I got no fuckin' sense. You fuckin' pull me in until you're all I can fuckin' see and suddenly I can't fuckin' breathe but I don't care cuz, you babe, you're you, and I ain't never met anyone as fuckin' perfect as you. And knowin' you gave me your first kiss and then you gave me that sweet pussy first, knowin' that I got that and no one else can ever have it cuz its fuckin' mine, fuck Eva, there ain't a day that goes by that I don't think 'bout that, 'bout you, and how much I fuckin' wish shit was different.
"And that’s the God's honest truth, darlin' and I wouldn’t change a fuckin’ thing ‘cept for you being in so deep with the Demon’s and me being a Horsemen and me being fuckin’ married to the biggest fuckin’ cunt on the planet and your old man being who he is. Take all that shit away and you’d be on the back of my bike and in my fuckin’ bed. And you wouldn’t be leavin’ and I wouldn’t be walkin’ away from you ever again.
“Now woman, you need to start doin’ what you came here to do or I’m gonna do it for you.”
☼☼☼
I ran to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest.
“Missed you,” I whispered. "So, so, much.”
"Babe, yeah," He said softly. "Now you gonna give me that sweet fuck me mouth or do I need to take it?"
I went up on my tiptoes, he bent down, I took his mouth, and I took his tongue and I ate him alive. Four years I had gone without him, without his mesmerizing eyes and his devastating grin and his perfect mouth and his perfect hands and his perfect body and his perfect cock. Desire, slick and hot, heated my blood and pooled low in my belly. I had so much time to make up for and it couldn't happen fast enough.
Frantically I pushed his cut down his shoulders. Shrugging out of it, he tossed it aside.
Up went his tee shirt, over his head and across the room. Mine was next; he yanked it up over my head and tossed it aside. Then my breasts were in his hands and then in his mouth and I died a heavenly, happy death. We tasted, touched, grabbed and gripped one another until it wasn’t enough anymore, not even close.
I released him, slid down his perfect body and onto my knees. After wrestling open his jeans I took him in my mouth, all of him and again I ate him alive. His breathing hitched and his hands gripped a hold of my hair. I clung to the backs of his thighs, digging my nails in, keeping myself steady when I otherwise would have collapsed under the heady sensations rippling through me.
I made love to him with my mouth in the same frantic, desperate way I have always kissed him. I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to ever stop, I felt so alive, taking all I could as I gave all I had. My mouth loved Deuce, my hands loved Deuce, my body loved Deuce. Loved, loved, loved, loved… I loved Deuce.
Loved.
“Baby,” He groaned, fisting my hair, pulling on it painfully. “Fuuu-ck…me…”
He exploded and I took it all, whimpering desperate greedy little whimpers, already wanting more. I wanted to own this man’s body, this man’s innate sexuality; I wanted to own this man.
I stared up at him through my wet lashes, trembling, my body quaking under the onslaught of need. For him.
“Eva baby, fuck, do you know what you fuckin’ do to me?” He bent down to cup my cheeks and ran the pad of his thumbs over my fluttering eyelids.
“You make me insane,” I breathed. God, he so did.
"Babe," He rasped, "Yeah."
Scooping me up, he carried me to his black leather couch and stripped me naked, divested himself of his jeans and bent me over the arm of the couch. He settled himself between my legs, lifted my hips and leaned down over me. His chest pressed against my head, his stomach rubbed against my back and his growing erection was pushing into me.
We were blessedly bared to one another. We were skin on skin.
Your mother holds you skin on skin when you enter this world, feeds you with her own body; skin on skin. Your father runs his fingers over your tear streaked cheek, presses his lips to your forehead; skin on skin. You make love, skin on skin, with a man you love, a beautiful man. And then, if you’re lucky, your own baby will enter this world and you’ll hold her, skin on skin. Feed her with your own body, skin on skin. It’s a magical thing.
Nothing compares.
"Gonna fuck you now baby."
"Yes please," I whispered.
He pushed inside of me and my breath caught. He withdrew and pushed back in, this time harder, this time going further. I whimpered.
"Babe,” He rasped. “So goddamn tight.”
“Only you,” I breathed. “No one else since you.”
He sucked in a breath. “Christ, Eva. What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”
"You're you," I whimpered.
He pulled out and again pushed in. We both groaned.
"God damn your fuckin' body, so fuckin' hot baby."
He pulled out again and again pushed in a little further. I pushed back trying to take him deeper.
"So fuckin' sweet and wantin’ an asshole like me."
His hips swiveled, grinding into me, causing me to moan. He did this four more times before pulling away and thrusting roughly. It was all I needed. My body blossomed for him, stretched and spread, allowing him to seat himself fully inside of me.
"Not carin’ that I got shit to give you, you just wantin’ me for me and not the club and not the fuckin’ money, just straight up wantin’ me.”
He pulled out and slammed back inside of me. I dug my fingernails deep into the leather and cried out.
“Fuck me,” He rasped, his hips pumping back and forth, in and out of me, excruciatingly slow. “You fuckin’ show up out of nowhere, lying, saying you were in the neighborhood and standin’ in my office wearing my old man’s tag, always wearing my old man’s tag and drop straight to your fuckin’ knees.”
He stilled and I squirmed until his fingertips bit painfully into the skin on my hips and held me still. "You want it hard baby?” He whispered. “Or you want it slow?”
"Hard,” I breathed.
"Yeah," He said gruffly. "You want me to own you don't you baby? You been waitin' for me to own you for a long time now, haven't you?"
Oh my god, my heart was going to explode; I wanted this man so bad. I wanted him to own me. All of me. Every. Single. Inch.
I shuddered with need, "Yes, Deuce."
"Sweet fuckin' girl," He rasped and thrusted hard and deep.
"Sweet and beautiful." He thrust again, harder.
"Please," I moaned. “More.”
He gripped my hips. "Anything you want darlin'. Anything you fuckin’ want."
“You,” I whispered. “All I want is you.”
“Fuck,” He muttered. “Fuck.”
Then he gave me everything I wanted and he gave it to me hard.
☼☼☼
Cradled in Deuce’s arms, I stared up at him with unfocused eyes, my sated body limp and heavy. He ran his hand down the side of my face, down my neck, across my collarbone and over my breasts.
I arched my back pushing more of me into his hand.
"Fuck me," He muttered, thumbing my nipples, making them hard. His other hand slid down my stomach and in between my hipbones where his fingers traced my indented abdomen.
"Know I don't deserve nothin' as sweet as you," He whispered darkly as his hand dipped in between my legs. "Anything a man's gotta steal to have he don't deserve."
“You didn't steal this,” I breathed, writhing against his hand. "I gave it."
His blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Naïve, darlin'," He murmured. "I stole you a long time ago. Round the time you fuckin' stole me."
You fuckin' stole me.
He'd just said that. He’d really, really, said that.
"I love you," I breathed into his mouth, overcome by sheer sensation and the larger than life force that was Deuce.
He went rigid and the pleasure induced fog I'd been floating around inside of instantly cleared. Oh no. Ohnononono. I did not just say that. There was no way he was going to understand what he meant to me. I barely understood it; I just accepted that it just was.
"Wait…that's not what I meant," I stammered. "I didn't… I don't…"
Deuce wasn't listening to me; he was moving me off of him, laying me down on my back, settling his hips between my thighs and pushing back inside of me.
"Say it again, Eva," He growled.
I bit my lip.
"Babe. Say it again."
I didn't. Mostly because he was inside of me again, so full, so big and he was fucking me deliciously slow. I went soft beneath him, staring up into his eyes. Eyes that I could never look away from. Eyes that pulled me inside of him where it was warm and safe. Eyes that I loved. And that's when I realized he wasn't fucking me. He was making love to me.
“Say it,” He demanded, his expression fierce. Dominant. Possessive.
"I…didn't mean-
He pulled his hips back and slammed inside of me. "You love me. Say it."
"No, I meant-
"You love me."
I gave up. “Yes,” I cried. “I love you! I've loved you forever!”
His eyes closed and his head dropped to my chest. “Fuck,” He whispered.
"Deuce," I whispered.
He looked up at me. "Yeah baby," He asked hoarsely. His eyes were hooded, his mouth slightly parted, his breath coming in short hard pants. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. He wasn't Deuce, bad ass biker and I wasn't Eva, his rival’s bad ass biker's daughter. He was a dangerously beautiful man and I was a woman he wanted and it was so fucking beautiful. I wanted to freeze time and stay in this moment with him forever, touching, fucking and loving.
"Come on me," I said, driven only by need. "I want you to come all over me."
His body went stiff, his nostrils flared. He barely had enough time to pull out of me before his body let go.
“God baby…fuck…fucking god.”
Watching Deuce orgasm was absolutely beautiful, Aurora Borealis kind of beautiful. His face drew in tightly then loosened as his release began. For a moment he looked younger than he was, young and vulnerable like I remembered him looking the day I’d met him. His eyes were glazed over, his lids at half mast. A small noisy breath passed through his lips and swept warmly over my breasts. Wet warmth shot up over my stomach and chest and suddenly Deuce's fingers were inside of me, pumping. My sex clenched and clenched again, throwing me into orgasm.
Taking his fingers away, he slid his hand over my body rubbing his liquid heat into the skin on my stomach and breasts, down between my thighs, and up into my sex, staring into my eyes the entire time.
He was marking me.
Claiming me.
Owning me.
"Say it again," He demanded.
"I love you, Deuce," I whispered.