Forbidden Beauty (Coffin Cheaters Motorcycle Club) (5 page)

Carter began to lope towards me, the fringe of his vest catching
a thin breeze from the ceiling fan.

“Do what? Huh, Gisele?”

“I'm no fool. You're going to take me into that little room
and...”

“...and, what? What do you want me to do?”
I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to place his rough hands on the swells
of my breasts and squeeze, hard. I wanted to feel his whole weight on top of
me, so when I inhaled I felt him press closer towards my spine. I wanted...oh,
I wanted a million things.

He'd read something in my eyes, and sure enough, Knox was
suddenly a few inches away from my face. I could feel his ragged breath,
fluttering over the sensitive skin on my lips. He took my hand in his and drew
it slowly up, so my palm was flat against his taut chest.

“Do you feel that?” And I did—it was his murmuring heartbeat—“Maybe
I'm
nervous. Maybe I'm nervous to be standing here next to
you
. You
ever think of that?” He leaned a hair closer. “And I swear, I don't get like
this with 'other girls.' Say there are no other girls.”

Then our lips were brushing, and then they were connected.
His mouth was so much softer than I'd expected it to be. Carter brought his
hands up to my cheeks, so he gently framed my face. I felt his fingertips
rooting lightly through my hair at the temples. He continued to kiss me deeply,
his tongue pressing hard against mine. By pure instinct, I snaked my own
trembling arms around his trim waist, pulling his hips towards my own. For a
beat, he pulled away from my embrace, pausing to gaze into my eyes.

“You are so incredibly beautiful, Gisele Owens. Did you know
that?” He ran a thumb down the bridge of my nose, and danced a few fingers over
the constellations of my freckles.

“I believe you.”

“No, really. Say it like you believe it. It's true.”

“I believe you,” I whispered, and smiled. It was hard not to
smile. I couldn't think about anything but the joy coursing through my veins.
This
was happening.

We kept kissing for a long while. Then, with a less gentle
thrust, Carter backed me up against the wood-paneled wall. His body was pulsing
with a fresh urgency. Reaching up, he pushed one of my wrists flush against the
wall, forcing me back against the wood. As I gasped at his force, he moved his
lips down to my neck, beginning to suck hard on the soft flesh there. I cried
out at the pressure. I felt my nipples rise and harden against my thin tank
top. Sensing my arousal, Carter began to tear at the shoulders of my covering
flannel, pressing the pads of his fingers into my naked shoulders. His grip was
so strong that he left red imprints behind.

“I want you,” I said aloud, unbidden. “Please. You can take
me, if you want.” Pulling away again, Carter looked up into my flushed face and
smiled that devilishly coy biker smile. My eyes darted down—there was a firm
erection pushing through the leather of his pants. What had Tati told me?
You'll
just know what to do, when the time comes. With the right guy, it'll be easy.
Huh.

“Come this way, baby,” he said, grabbing my hand again and
pulling me further down the hall. I followed like a puppy; I would've followed
him anywhere. Our footsteps were dampened by the plush carpet. Silently, Knox
pushed opened a door onto a tiny but well-appointed bedroom. There was a made
double bed, piled high with fluffy white pillows. An antique white vanity
rested in the far corner. And—oddest of all—there was a long, wide mirror on
the ceiling, directing light back towards the bed.

“This is Scotty's room. And before you get grossed out—he
hasn't lived here in years. Not since his ex-wife flew the coop.”

Dropping my hand, Knox wandered towards the bed and sat down
with a heavy squeak.

“It's an old boxspring,” he said sheepishly. Then he reached
a hand out for me. “But who cares. Bring that sweet little ass over here.”

Because I couldn't not, I fell into Knox's embrace once
more. I loved the feel of our skin connecting—his rough-but-soft touch, the
thick fuzz along his thrumming chest. Straddling him across the bed, I pressed
a tentative palm against his member and felt it throb below my hand, watched my
lover's (!) eyes roll up and back into his head. He groaned at my touch. For a
few tentative beats, I ran my palm up and down across his bulge. I marveled at
his stiffening. The fabric around his dick was straining against his size. He
was breathing hard. Still, Carter didn't waver when I returned my hands to the
sides of his face. Surprisingly, he seemed content to make out.

I, meanwhile, continued to keep mental turmoil at bay. My
heart beat wildly against the cage of my chest. I wanted more, yet I wanted the
kissing to continue. I wanted to make love to him, but I couldn't do this in
good conscience when I knew he was a Knight of Styx—then again, maybe he
wasn't, there was still the smallest chance...in what was becoming an eerie
move, Knox read my mind again: with two fingers, he tugged lightly against the
waistband of my jeans. With shaking digits I reached down and popped open the
top button, liquid with want. My thighs were already slick with desire, and I
couldn't help but press a finger further down into my mound. I touched myself
for a moment, writhing above him, but then Carter nudged my hand away with his
own, and pushed down deeper, deeper, until he was cradling the whole of me. He
rustled his fingers against my wetness. I thrust my breasts towards him,
bucking. I shuddered.

“Hey, beautiful,” he called below me, “Are you still 'not so
sure you can do this?'” Outside, the sounds of the club were still at a fever
pitch. Scotty had put on some kind of swing-dancing number, and the older
couples were laughing.

Despite my silence, Knox eased upwards onto his elbows,
beginning to kiss my breasts through the thin fabric of my undershirt. With one
hand, he continued to rub circles into my clit. My spine tingled with
anticipation.
Yes, yes, yes, yes,
my body cried out. But—cliché of all clichés—my
mouth was forming a different sound.

“I'm not sure.”

He didn't look surprised. If anything, he looked more
willing. Gently picking me up and placing me beside him, he rotated me so my
back was facing the bed, then gently pushed me down onto its squeaky surface.
Scotty's pillows were surprisingly soft. Gazing up, I saw myself in the ceiling
mirror: anticipation was drenching my skin, and my face was beet-red. I saw the
back of Knox's head—that thick, dark hair—hovering over my jeans. His strong
hands gripped the sides of my legs like they were handlebars. Along his
muscular, naked back, I glimpsed the outline of a large tattoo: a skeletal but
hooded figure, steering a crooked boat. Having briefly studied Greek mythology,
I remembered this image from books: his tattoo depicted the shepherd of the
dead. Charon, on the river Styx.

Knox knelt before me then, his head level with my belly
button. I reached to my sides and began to draw the shirt up and over my head.
I hadn't worn a bra today, and was momentarily embarrassed once I felt the
breeze on my chest—but Knox seemed pleased at the sight of my naked tits. He
leaned forward to kiss my nipples again, and I arched my back so my chest might
curve to his mouth. He flicked his strong tongue across my tits, first one,
then the other, kissing, prodding, becoming more fervent all the time. I felt
his stubble against me when he began to suck—hard—on a pert, wanting nipple.
Then he drew my full breast into his mouth, massaging with one hand what he
couldn't reach with his tongue.

With the flat of his other hand, Carter pressed me all the
way back, so I now lay flush against the bed. Staring up into the mirror again,
I thought for a moment of my twin. I suddenly understood the odd ecstasy she'd
described in all those letters—though I was pretty sure her grubby rocker
boyfriend had nothing on the hunk I currently had between my thighs.

Carter's attention had returned to my pants. Namely, he
seemed concerned with getting them off. Pulling my legs up so they rested on his
shoulders and dangled across his back, he began to peel my jeans away. His
movements were slow, but certain: this was going to happen, and I was going to
like it. Once my shredded Levis had fallen to the floor with a soft
whump
,
I felt his lilac eyes on my panties. He pushed the full of his face into my
clothed center, beginning to nibble lightly on the insides of my soaking
thighs.

“Fuck,” I moaned again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shhhh,” he whispered into my folds. This tickled so much I
could barely keep from rearing back. “Relax, baby.”

There it was again:
baby.

Still gripping my legs, hard, he flicked his tongue against
the elastic sides of my underwear. I continued to squirm at the overwhelming
pleasure. Finally, he yanked the cloth aside. When his tongue landed lightly on
my clit, I might have come immediately. I had to bite my lip to prolong the
feeling.

Carter sucked on me barely at first, alternately flicking
his tongue in small circles around my crest and pausing, teasing me away from
the ultimate pleasure. I softly placed my hand on the warm thatch of his hair,
drawing him further into me. I widened my legs for him, so I was in near-splits
across the mattress. Urged on, Carter slid a hand towards my entrance. When I
didn't recoil, he pushed two strong fingers inside of me. After a moment's
pain, my body seemed to open to his touch. I felt my sweetness sliding down
over his fingers. In another moment, I cried out, sharply: his touch had
reached some inner part of me, some part that I hadn't even known existed. I
pressed my palms into the flat of the squeaky mattress, raising my hips so he
might touch me in the exact same spot again.

Abruptly, Carter pulled his fingers from me. In the mirror,
I watched him suck my juices from his fingertips.

“Get on your knees,” he grunted, huskily.

I didn't think; I merely followed his orders. When my ass
was in the air before him, I felt a trill of fear—but I also knew that whatever
he wanted to do to me, I'd let him.

More aggressively than before, he pushed three thick fingers
inside of me, beginning to pump against my groin. He'd found the spot again—and
I began to moan with the pleasure. I arched my naked back, spreading my legs
wider and wider.

“I want your cock. I want you to take your cock out,” I
breathed, barely. But instead of obeying my command, Carter slapped my ass,
hard. The pain mingled with the frenetic feeling in my pussy, and I gripped a
piece of soiled sheet like it could save me.

“I'm not going to fuck you yet,” Carter murmured. “But I am
going to make you come.” His fingers pressed upward into my spot, and he bent
his head low. With his free hand, he spread my ass cheeks wide. His tongue
darting and quick, he began to lap at the smooth surface of my asshole.

I was self-conscious for a split second, but after another
moment, I couldn't think. I couldn't see, from the sweat running into my eyes.
His tongue pressed against my flexing hole while his fingers jammed back and
forth across my wet center, and with his other hand he grabbed and pinched the
skin of my cheeks. I sank my spine low, so the full of me was close to his
face. I whimpered, I wanted, I was.

My lover began to push into me faster and faster, while his
tongue began making small, rapid circles. When I was just about to beg for his
entrance again, he returned his mouth to my clit. He sucked on my mound slowly
and deeply while he pumped into me faster and faster, and the two rhythms
coincided on some plane. I'd never been so wet, I'd never been so turned on. He
worked his hand and his mouth for a few long, aggressive beats until I reached
back and pressed his head deep into my pussy, in order to feel as much of him
as possible. Casting upward, I opened my eyes for a split second and saw my
splayed naked form in the mirror above me, convulsing with ecstasy. I rode his
fingers. I ground myself against him. I saw his dark head moving, intent—I saw
his lean, muscular, rippling back—and then I came furiously, for what felt like
minutes, and once every nerve had seized then relaxed, I collapsed against the
sheets, utterly unable to move.

Carter rose slowly, extracting himself from my little leg
prison. He leaned across the bed and pulled the downy comforter across my body.
I hadn't even realized I was cold, but nestling into the little blanket cocoon
felt like sweet relief.

Knox climbed into bed beside me, cradling my body so his
still-raging erection was flush against my quivering ass. He let his hands
wander around me, gently massaging and kneading my skin. He traced circles
along my back, the damp flesh of my thighs, my ass, my breasts. He kissed the
nape of my neck.

“Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me to do that.”

“Oh baby, you can do that whenever you feel like,” I
blurted. Apparently any demure-damsel-charm I might ever have possessed was
obliterated, post-orgasm.

But Knox merely laughed at this—that hearty, miraculous
laugh I'd already come to love. “Do you mind me spooning you like this? Or
would you like some privacy? I could build a little wall of Jericho.”

“What's a wall of Jericho?”

“You still haven't seen the movie!” he cried. “
It
Happened One Night
. Get on it! American classic.”

“We should rent it sometime,” I said. My body was already
drowsing towards sleep—still I felt Knox seize up beside me at my words. Oh,
Christ. I'd gone and dropped a 'we' bomb. Way to play the cool card, Gizzy...

“You and I both know that would be hard,” Knox said, his
voice suddenly quiet, serious. “Us coming from opposite sides of the tracks and
all.”

I rolled over to face him.

“Did you know? All along?”

He was silent.

All I could see then was red. I felt blinding rage.
Tripping, I unswaddled myself from the blanket nest and began to grope the
floor for my pants.