Forbidden Beauty (Coffin Cheaters Motorcycle Club) (16 page)

We've always
been good like this. Her back arches up, her palms push into the fabric, and
she opens her pretty mouth and looks at me over her left shoulder. I love it
like this, I really fucking do.

“I'm gonna
come,” she warns. “Baby—I'm gonna come so hard for you!” But I'm still not
ready to bust yet. I pull out, then slowly press myself against the button of
her ass. We've tried this once or twice before, always going slow and careful.
I want to push in hard, but I wait for her to nod. She does: twice.

She presses
against me, and slowly, I nudge myself inside. Any way we do it, she feels so
fucking good...

* * *

Gisele

He starts to rub my clit while he pushes into my ass, and
the twinging pain of his size is slowly replaced with pleasure He's gentle now,
moving only with my go-ahead. It definitely hurts, but it's a good kind of
pain. He'll come inside, rest for a moment, then creep out slow. I'm still wet
with want.

Carter leans close and kisses the nape of my neck, and his
mouth feels cool even inside the heat we've created. He's moving just a little
faster now, with one hand pressed against my mound and another holding my ass
in place. I reach up and grab my breasts with one hand; I arch the way he likes
me to.

He thrusts harder. I moan. I moan and moan and moan. “Baby!”
I yell into our humid little room. At that second, I feel him loosen inside of
me, I feel his cock pulse with a wave of ecstasy. He drips down my sides, and
the trail of him falling against me sends a shiver up my own spine. Reading me
in that intuitive way he has, he presses against my clit with his free hand and
now it's my turn to come, clenching, heaving with a twin mix of pleasure and
pain, and I shriek and laugh and kinda sob all at once. He pulls out and
collapses against me.

Now, in the room that's silent but for our rapid heartbeats,
I snake my fingers through his chest hair. I run my fingers across the outlines
of his tattoos, the many pleasing curves of his biceps, his pecs. And I listen
to him breathing. I listen to the wind wailing outside, the sound of water
whipping up in the creek, below the moat. We're safe, yet in turmoil: our
favorite way to be. The king and queen of this stronghold.

“It's just us and the moon and the water,” Carter creaks
beside me.

“What is that,
softie
? Poetry?”

“It's something you'd know if we ever got around to watching
that movie, Claudette.” He reaches down, places an idle hand on my mound. I
love when he strokes me after.

But then, I love just about everything about my old man.

THE END

* * *