I writhed.
Then I caught his shirt at the shoulders and he kept at me with his mouth even as I shoved it down his arms and he tore it off.
He switched nipples with his mouth but not his hands because his other hand trailed over my belly, in, down, and . . . oh yeah . . .
In.
He hit my clit with a finger and rolled.
Oh man.
My back arced off the bed.
His head came up and he took at my face.
“Rush,” I panted, my hips undulating with his finger.
He took one look at me, slithered low, spread my legs, then his mouth closed over me through my black lace panties.
I cried out, my nails scraping his scalp as I reached down to cup his head with one hand and that was as much as I got before he rolled to the side flipping my leg over his head.
I did not protest like I intended to protest when I lost the magic of his mouth between my legs when he dragged my panties down those limbs. He tugged off my boots, yanked off my little socks, flipped my leg back over his head as he rolled back in and then he lowered his mouth to me and went at me.
Oh God, did he go after me.
I held his head with both hands as he sucked and nibbled and tongue-fucked me.
“Rush,” his name rushed out on a breath as I pushed his face hard into my pussy, my head digging back, everything arching so the crown of it was in his comforter, my heels finding his shoulder blades and plowing in . . .
I cried out sharply before my orgasm became just a very long, very lush, very amazing, open-mouthed, silent moan.
I was floating down very slowly, my fingers no longer curled into his hair but into his back and his mouth was at my ear.
“I want inside,” he growled.
“Then come inside,” I panted.
He kissed the skin beneath my ear.
My collarbone.
The space between my breasts.
Then he was gone.
I was still catching my breath when he came back, positioning between my legs. I barely focused on the burning, determined look in his eyes before he took my mouth again, kissing me deep, wet . . . hot.
I felt him glide the tip of his cock over my clit. My hips jerked and I gasped against his tongue, rounding his hips with my calves.
Rush kept kissing me.
Somewhere in the depths of my brain that wasn’t about my body, his cock, the staggering orgasm he just gave me, or the fact we were about to connect, I realized I liked that.
Loved it.
I loved that Rush kissed, so intimate, so generous, so beautiful, while he fucked.
To me, it said everything.
To me, that just was Rush.
As deep as these thoughts were, they flew away when the tip of his cock caught at me and he slid in an inch.
I clutched at the back of his neck with one hand and dragged my nails down his spine with the other.
He slid in another inch.
I was being stretched, widened.
His kiss deepened, and he went in another inch.
I whimpered.
He broke the kiss and lifted his head.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“You’re—”
“I got some heft.”
Heft.
I hadn’t seen him and I didn’t know how long he was.
But he was thick.
“Yeah, baby?” he prompted, and I felt him straining to hold back.
He wanted inside.
But he was holding back, making sure I was good.
God.
Rush.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
He slid in another inch.
And stopped.
“Baby,” I breathed.
“Fuck, you’re tight. Sweet. Tight. Slick. Fuck,” he groaned.
I lifted my head and nipped his lips.
His face darkened and he slid in another inch.
“Yes,” I panted.
“More?” he grunted.
“Yes,” I hissed.
He slid in all the way.
I clutched his neck and slipped my other hand down to find my nails digging in the bare, molded, muscle of his ass.
Nice.
But he’d gotten naked and I missed it.
Next time, I would not.
“Rush.”
“Good?”
“Rush—”
“Honey, you good?”
I twisted my hand to glide my fingers up into the flips and curls of his hair, cup his head and lifted mine off the bed until my lips were to his, my eyes looking right into his, and I begged, “Fuck me, Rush.”
His lids lowered (sexy AF), he slanted his head, took my mouth and moved inside me.
Slow.
Gentle.
Sweet.
His hand went to my breast, teasing my nipple.
Oh yes.
I grabbed his ass in my hand, holding tight, pulling him to me, sliding my calves down to wrap around the backs of his thighs and holding on.
He kept kissing me and went faster.
I broke the kiss, went after his neck, fisting my hand in his hair to pull his head back so he’d expose his throat to me.
“Christ,” he groaned.
And went faster, deeper.
I opened my mouth over his throat and took him with lips and tongue, like I’d suck his cock, all the way down.
“Christ,” he grunted.
His hand at my breast slid down, in, and his finger was at my clit.
Oh . . .
Yes.
My head fell back.
He took my mouth.
And went faster, harder.
“Rush,” I breathed into his mouth, finding his rhythm with my hips, trailing my other hand down so I had two handfuls of his ass, pulling him into me.
“Find it,” he grunted.
“Baby.”
His finger pressed tighter, rolled harder, as his thrusts inside went even faster.
“Find it,” he growled into my mouth.
I gripped his ass with my hands, lifted my knees, pressed my thighs to his hips and closed my eyes, bowing up into him as he gave it to me again.
God, how could the second one be better?
I didn’t know.
I just felt it.
And it was fabulous.
“Thank Christ,” he muttered then bucked, once, twice, three times, four, grunting through each before he planted himself inside, shoved his face in my neck and groaned into my skin.
I melted into the bed.
Rush collapsed into me.
When I came to, his mouth was moving on me.
My neck.
My chest.
Over the swell of my breast.
I wound my limbs tight around him as he rolled my nipple with his tongue.
I tipped my chin down and watched through half-closed eyes his dark head against my light skin, his strong glistening tongue swirling my sensitive nipple.
“Honey,” I called.
His head came up, his gaze came to me, before he shifted over me and put his mouth to mine.
I expected him to kiss me.
He didn’t kiss me.
And I only had the barest second to process the intensity in his look, the possession stark there, hunger slaked, satisfaction a given. I knew before he even said it I had hold on a man who was about to stake his claim.
“I’m keeping you,” he said against my lips.
He was keeping me.
I was going to belong to somebody.
And that somebody was Rush Allen.
I was pretty sure in that moment I’d start crying.
Rush didn’t give me a shot.
“And do not think I’m gonna let you be lazy. I get rid of this condom, baby, round two. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, but part of it’s gonna include you blowin’ me, so warm up that mouth while I’m gone. And get ready. With that brilliance as an intro, we’re gonna go all night.”
Only then did he kiss me, wet and rough and deep.
When he pulled away, he caught my lower lip in his teeth and took it with him, necessitating me going with it, and pretty much every inch of my body quivered.
He let it go, gave me a wicked, biker-boy-who-had-a-big-dick-and-knew-that-he-knew-how-to-use-it grin and he slid out of me and bed.
I watched him walk to the master bath he told me he’d redone.
I hadn’t seen much of him during our session, but I’d felt it.
It definitely felt nice.
But to his fantastic chest, now I could add visible proof of a great back, incredible thighs and an amazing ass that seemed even more amazing with my scratch marks and nail dents.
I turned to my side and hugged my legs into my chest.
I did not warm up my mouth.
First, I had no idea how.
Second, I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You want me to go get the tequila?” he called from the bathroom.
We’re gonna go all night.
“Yes,” I called back.
I was going to get my brains banged out by a beautiful biker.
So yeah.
Oh yeah.
I was still smiling.
Free and Easy
Rush
The next morning . . .
His phone ringing woke him.
Rush immediately smelled Rebel’s hair since his face was in it.
It smelled nothing but clean and felt nothing but good.
They were both naked, he was at her back, partially pinning her to the bed.
He had his arm around her, but it was Rebel who had his hand held loosely in hers, tucked between the bed and her chest.
The comforter had slid off somewhere along the way last night, so it was only his sheet that was up to their waists, tangled in their legs.
After a wild date that was good and bad, they’d had a spectacular night.
Tequila.
Getting loose.
And lots of phenomenal fucking.
She was a great lay.
Fuck, when bodies weren’t being dumped and she didn’t have shit jacking with her head, Rebel Stapleton was a great everything.
He’d learned a lot from his dad.
One of those things was, you find a redhead who did it for you, even if it was early in your relationship, if you knew in your gut that it was right, you didn’t let go.
So yeah.
He’d made his decision.