She pressed her hips into his and asked, “I’m awesome?”
He grinned down at her. “Insight into me, I don’t move a woman into my pad on the first date after enduring a meltdown and a body dump if she’s not awesome.”
She was grinning up at him, but in the middle of it the look in her eyes changed.
“You ever move a woman into your pad?” she asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Mm,” she hummed.
He liked that noise but now they had no time to get busy.
He had to get to Ride.
“We need to get dressed. You need to come with me and hang while I meet with my brothers.”
“Right,” she said.
He started to move away but did it taking her with him.
He stopped when her hand went from his chest to cup his package.
“Rebel,” he said.
“I’ll be quick,” she whispered.
“Rebel,” he growled.
But he did not move when she floated down to her knees in front of him.
And he absolutely did not move when she freed his stiffening cock from his jeans.
He did move when she slid him into her warm, wet mouth, and he did this to glide his fingers into her hair.
He watched her suck him off and he loved every stroke, especially when it got better after she tucked her hands in his jeans at the back and dug her long nails in at his ass.
Fuck, her draw.
His woman had power in her pulls and with the pain in his ass of her nails making her marks in him, telling him she loved his dick in her mouth, it didn’t take long for her to get him where she wanted him to be going.
“Babe,” he grunted in warning when he was almost there.
She kept at him, just lifting those pretty blue eyes up to his face, his wet dick sliding in and out of her mouth, and Jesus.
His hand fisted in her hair and his head fell back.
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, beginning to blow.
She took one hand from his ass and dove in at the front, cupping his balls and squeezing.
Rush started fucking her face and grunted, “Fuck yeah,” as his mind blanked of everything but Rebel’s hot, sweet mouth and the mammoth orgasm she was sucking out of him.
The night before when she’d gone down on him, before he’d blown, he’d shoved her to her hands and knees, took her pussy and did it inside.
This time, as he came down, righting his head, he felt her gently licking his dick, massaging his balls. Before he could tip his head to watch that action, she let him go, floated back up to her feet, and moved her hand from his balls to his dick to hold it in a warm, but assertive grip as she kissed the base of his throat.
Rush curled his arms around her.
“Is my biker good?” she asked quietly.
“Were you there two minutes ago?” he asked back.
He felt her smile against his skin. “You’re good.”
She nuzzled his throat and stood in his arms, her fingers wrapped around his semi-hard dick like they had all day to stand there just like that.
“You claimin’ that cock?” he asked.
Slowly, she tipped her head back.
He saw the caution in her face and it made him put a hand to her jaw.
“Yes?” she asked back like it was him that could answer that question.
Rush loved it when she got like this.
She was ballsy and confident and sweet and funny and open, but she could get shy, vulnerable, and show it.
The biker in him, and the Allen in him, needed a woman who was ballsy and confident.
It was the Allen in him that needed her to be sweet and funny and open.
The man Rush was, he needed her to have times she was vulnerable, so he could cover her in those times. He didn’t care what that said about him. He was a man who needed to be needed by his woman.
Not too much, not all the time, but enough he got to fill that role and give that to her.
Rebel didn’t believe he was real.
Rush was beginning to believe she was made for him.
“You give great head, Rebel.”
She kept looking in his eyes but said nothing.
“And you swallow.”
Her mouth quirked but she remained silent.
He bent his head to hers. “Baby, we’re doin’ this.”
“What’s ‘this?’” she whispered.
“This is me not mindin’ standin’ in my kitchen with my jeans about to fall off my hips ’cause my girl is claimin’ my junk, and I got no problem with that and not only because she just dropped to her knees and blew me.”
His girl’s hand claiming his junk gave him an involuntary squeeze that made him grunt so she let him go altogether, which eventually had to happen, but it still sucked.
He took a hand from around her to tuck himself in, hiked up his jeans, did up enough buttons to keep them from falling down, but left the rest open when she stayed pressed to him.
“You good with the, um . . . ?”
She didn’t finish so he asked, “What?”
“Ball, uh, action.”
Right.
Here it was again.
The vulnerability.
So he had to do this gentle.
He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and kept his face close to hers.
“Right, I don’t do blow by blows, honey. The fact I did blow, hard, down your throat gave you the answer to that. I do something that you don’t like, I wanna know, at the time, even if it takes us out of the zone. You do somethin’ I don’t dig, I’ll be cool, but you’ll know. We get off on what’s happening, we roll with it. What we don’t do is dissect it after the fact. You don’t have to assume I liked it. If I didn’t stop you doing it, I liked it. There’s no guesswork with me. I want it to be what we already got. Free and easy. We hit a snag, we’ll work around it. But no reason to go searching for snags that aren’t there.”
He tightened his fingers on her neck and it wasn’t like he didn’t have all her attention, but as he was communicating what he wanted from his touch, she gave him more.
“I mean that with fucking and I mean that with everything,” he told her. “No guesswork. Free and easy. We hit a snag, we work on it. Are you getting me?”
She nodded.
“You okay how I said that?” he asked. “I don’t want you to get hung up I laid it out like that.”
“I’m okay, Rush. It’s good. I just can get carried away and some dudes aren’t big on that.”
He wasn’t thrilled at the thought of her being with “some dudes” at all.
So he didn’t think on that.
He said, “You can get carried away with me.”
She smiled.
“And just to confirm, this once, you wanna force me to shoot harder down your throat, you claimed my cock, my balls come with it, I’m not gonna complain you drain me.”
She squirmed in his hold.
He tipped his head to the side, muttering, “She likes dirty talk.”
“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”
He grinned. “Yeah.” He then touched his lips to her mouth, pulled away, dropped his voice low and promised, “I’ll take care of you later, sweetheart.”
That made her grin, roll up on her toes and touch her lips to his.
He’d let her go but took her hand and began guiding her to the stairs when she tugged on his arm.
He stopped and looked at her.
“Thank you.”
He was confused. “For what?”
“How many do you want?”
He was more confused, but asked, “How many you got?”
“Well, there’s looking after me. Moving me in to protect me. Being cool with my meltdown. Listening to me. Understanding. Not running a mile when Essence told you her Woodstock orgy story. Looking after Essence. Being honest. How you’re honest. Asking if I’m good with how you’re honest. Giving great head. Having a big dick and knowing how to use it.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And liking your balls squeezed.”
He yanked on her hand, she fell into his arms, and he landed a deep kiss on her.
When he lifted his head, he said the only thing he could say.
“You’re welcome.”
But That Did It
Beck
Much earlier that same morning . . .
Beck opened his eyes and smelled bacon.
He then rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling a beat before he lifted his hands to his face and rubbed.
He also counted.
Five times.
Five times in the five months he’d been seeing Janna he’d spent the night.
And every morning, she was up before him, even if he had to get up early to get to work, and she made him breakfast.
He rolled out of bed, moved to her bathroom and stood at the sink, scowling at the toothbrush she’d opened for him the morning after the first night he’d stayed. A toothbrush that was in her little, ceramic toothbrush holder with dots that formed designs that looked like henna art on it.
Digging in.
He used the toilet. Washed his hands. Splashed water on his face. Brushed his teeth. Moved out. Nabbed his jeans. Dragged them on. Same with tee, socks and boots.
Then he prowled out toward the kitchen of her little two-bedroom place to have a word with her about breakfast.
But he stopped in the living room.
They didn’t spend time in it, so he’d never really paid attention.
The kitchen was a galley kitchen with cheap, fake oak cabinets.