“You’re so tight … I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
“I’m not Humpty Dumpty; I don’t break.” She moaned. “Like that, lover. That’s the way I want your cock … Deep and fast …”
She met each of his thrusts with one of her own. When he stiffened, he took her hands, lifting them over her head and locking them in place as he ground out his climax in her spasming pussy, giving her the weight of his body when he finally stopped moving.
“You’re a dangerous woman.”
She rubbed her cheek against his. “You going to let me down or keep me here all night?”
“Give me a minute. I’m trying to decide. I kind of like where you are, but I have plans for the bed and the shower.”
“Can you let me use the bathroom first?”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” He let her down, releasing her hands. “Hurry back.”
“Dude, you won’t have time to miss me.” She started to open the door when she realized all she had on was her heels while her top was bunched around her waist.
Killyama pulled off her top then grabbed the one Train had taken out of a drawer. She started to take her heels off, too, when …
“Don’t. I like fucking you with them on.”
“Pervert.” She grinned, going out the door and leaving Train’s partially open.
In the bathroom, she did her business and washed off. When she came out, she came to a stop. In the bedroom across from Train’s, there was a woman she hadn’t seen around the club before. Rider was naked on the bed, and he was pulling her down on top of him. Crash was taking his jeans off when he looked up, seeing her staring at them.
“Want to join?”
Her mouth dropped open. The woman was going to do both men?
“No, thanks.” She turned, nearly bumping into a grinning Train.
She slammed the door shut when he started laughing.
“She is going to fuck them both, and he thought he could fuck me, too?” she stormed, tearing off Train’s shirt.
“Crash could fuck five women and have enough left over to give you.”
She had imagined Train doing other women every night they weren’t together, but she hadn’t even thought that he would do two or more a night. Or a day. The sobering fact had her wanting to get dressed.
She picked up her clothes, going to the side of the bed as if she were going to lie down. “Who was the chick? I’ve never seen her before.”
“That’s Sasha. She became a member before Aisha was born.”
“Did you give her your vote?”
“Beth told you about the votes?”
“Yes. And before you say anything, we won’t say anything.”
“Yes, I gave her my vote.” Train held her stare, waiting for her reaction.
Killyama didn’t react. She simply looked down at her clothes.
Sex meant nothing to him. It was about quantity to The Last Riders, not quality. She wouldn’t even be second best to Train. She would be third, or fourth, or fifth. Hell, he probably couldn’t remember which women he fucked the day before, much less the day before that.
She looked up, surprising him. “Why are you staring at me that way? Afraid I’m going to freak out on you?”
“It crossed my mind.”
She tossed her clothes down then languidly stretched out on his bed. “Who has more stamina, you or Crash?”
She could tell he was debating on whether to tell her the truth or not. Like all men, his pride won out.
“Me.”
“Prove it.”
Train gave a relieved breath, lying down next to her and running a hand over her breasts. “I told you, you’re a dangerous woman.”
She raised herself over him, her nipples brushing his chest as she slipped between his thighs. Killyama brought her mouth to his cock, sucking the head inside before letting it pop out so she could lick the stem to his balls. She teased and tormented him the way he had done her downstairs, refusing to let him come, even when he broke into a cold sweat. She used her thumb every time she felt him almost climaxing, stopping it just short. It wasn’t her yells that filled the bedroom when she finally let him come.
She didn’t let him rest for long before she started in on him again, stroking him to his full-length. She made him prove his claim over and over again, not letting him fall asleep until the sun started rising outside his window.
“Go to sleep, lover.” Killyama spoke softly as his breathing deepened.
She lay there, resting her head on her hand as she stared down at him, memorizing his face. With a tender hand, she traced his chiseled jaw, his stubborn chin, smoothing the tired shadows under his lashes. Then, brushing a soft kiss to his lips, she slid away, putting on her clothes.
She stood looking down at him, wanting to get back in bed. Instead, she tenderly covered him with a blanket before going to the door.
With her hand on the doorknob, she paused, then quietly opened and closed the door, leaving the man she loved behind.
11