He took another step back.
To my shock, he grabbed my legs and slid them off the table. He then closed the robe. He touched my face again and opened his mouth to say something. I quickly slapped his hands away and stood up from the table.
I shook my head. The room spun for a few seconds.
“No,” I said. “I need you, Slam. I need you to fuck me right now.”
“No you don’t, Belle,” he said. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re thinking. I came here to tell…”
I jumped at Slam. My nails grabbed the back of his neck and I pulled myself up, getting to that wild mouth and even wilder tongue of his. His hands caught the middle of my back and we started to kiss.
Slam turned and walked me to the wall, slamming me against it. I let out a cry and put my head back, feeling his teeth and tongue go to my neck. He kissed hard and fast, going for me now.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Fuck, yes!”
His left hand cupped under my ass, over the robe. His right hand cut into the robe and he touched me. Two fingers touched my center. He rubbed, hard, and then thrust two fingers into me.
“Oh, shit,” I groaned.
Just the feel of his two fingers were intense to my body.
I was so tight. I was so…
“Goddammit,” Slam growled and took his hand away.
He stepped back again and put his hands flat against the wall. I looked at him, my lips trembling. Both sets of lips trembling.
“You’re fucking drunk, Belle,” he said. “This isn’t how…”
“Just fucking do it,” I said. “Fuck me right now, Slam. I can’t wait any longer for you. I’m in love with you. I swear.”
I had never seen the look in his eyes like that moment. Had I surprised him?
Slam took his hands from the wall. He gently touched my face and curled his lip. He was angry. But it was so fucking sexy to see.
His hands grabbed the top of the robe and tore it open, exposing my heavy breasts. He grabbed my ribs, just below my breasts, and brought his mouth forward to my chest. As he kissed, sucked, and played, the gush between my legs got worse. I put my hand to the back of his head and let out a cry of relief. His mouth was everywhere on me. His tongue flickered up and down on my nipples so fucking fast, so fucking perfectly…
Then he pulled away again.
This time Slam turned and ran his hands through his hair.
“No, goddammit,” he snapped.
“What? Why?”
“You’re drunk, babe. I’m not doing this while you’re drunk.”
“Why does it fucking matter to you?” I shouted.
Yeah, I could tell then I was really drunk.
Slam looked over his shoulder at me. He was so amazingly perfect and beautiful. I would do anything to keep him happy for the rest of my life. I would become anything he wanted and everything he needed. Please, Slam…
“It matters to me, Belle,” Slam said as he turned back around, “because I love you too. I wasn’t supposed to let this shit happen, but it did. And I came here to talk to you and explain how I’m going to fix it all.”
My mind heard what he said but only registered one thing: I love you too.
“You love me?” I asked.
“Yes,” Slam said. “I fucking love you, Belle. I’m going to take care of you, I swear. But not like this…”
I stepped forward and slipped my fingers into the robe. I pushed it off my shoulders and dropped the robe to my feet. I stood there completely naked, completely vulnerable to Slam.
“Christ, babe,” he said as he gritted his teeth.
“Take me,” I said. “Love me, Slam.”
He touched my arms and shook his head. “Not like this.”
He kept repeating himself, like he was trying to sell the idea to himself.
I pressed my naked body forward to his chest. His leather cut was touching me, just like before. I was enraged with passion for him. So desperate that I felt myself starting to get emotional. Or maybe that was just old memories fighting back again.
“Come on, babe,” he whispered and kissed the top of my head.
Slam started to walk me toward the bedroom. Then he scooped me up. The entire world spun hard and fast for a few seconds. When everything stopped moving I was able to then realize that I was in the arms of an outlaw biker.
He took me to my bed and dropped me down. I hurried to open my legs, showing him that I was still wet. Still ready. I gripped the sheets, waiting for him to unzip his jeans and pull that monster of his out and attack me with it.
Slam made fists and put them to the bed. He kissed just above my belly button. I let out a groan.
“Keep going,” I begged.
“Babe, I can’t,” he said. “You know that.”
“Why?”
Slam stood up. He grabbed the covers and folded them over my body. He crouched down, not even joining me in bed.
“It’s not supposed to be this way,” he whispered.
“Fuck you then,” I yelled. “Fuck yourself, Slam. Mister tough guy. You’re a pussy.”
His lip curled. “That’s right. Let all that nasty shit out.”