Fury: Book 2 in the Vengeance MC series (22 page)

“Tanner,” Avery pants. “Please…”

Her soft plea is all the encouragement I need, causing the last thread of my self-control to snap. Guiding myself to her entrance, rubbing the head of my cock along her slit, I gently nudge her folds allowing the first few inches to slip inside her.

Avery lets out a deep sigh as I slide in another inch while I release a feral groan, asking,

“Tell me you’re good with this, baby. I need to hear you say the words.”

“Keep, keep going, Tanner. It feels so good,” she begs into my ear as her teeth clamp down and her pussy spasms around me.

Thrusting forward, burying myself to the hilt deep inside her dripping, wet pussy, I still, letting her adjust to the size and feel of me. It doesn’t take long before Avery’s legs rise, wrapping around my hips, her ankles digging into the small of my back.

“Jesus! Fuck,” I hiss, beginning to move in slow, measured strokes.

Avery feels fucking phenomenal and is tighter than the death grip I’ve been using on myself in the shower when I need to release some of the tension thoughts of her produces.

Retreating until the head of my cock is barely lodged inside her sheath, my eyes stray to her face ensuring she’s okay, that I’m not scaring her in any way. When I’m sure, I plunge into her with a steady rhythm over and over again, reveling in every moan, every sigh, and every breathy plea to give her more, and do it harder.

Switching our position, raising one of my knees higher, opening her to me entirely, I fuck her with everything in me. All of the pent up desire, sexual tension, lust, and love I’ve had for Avery over the last ten years has the speed of my strokes increasing. For a minute, I’m worried I’ll hurt her, but as I go to ease back, slow down some, Avery digs her short, sharp fingernails into the meat of my ass spurring me on.

Avery arches her back, pressing her soft breasts into my chest, chanting my name as her pussy continues to spasm and the wetness from her core seeps down her thighs, coating my balls.

Sensing she’s close, I stop holding back, needing to make her come before she drives me over the edge. Thrusting into her pussy, I grind my hips into her pelvis, hitting her g-spot repeatedly.

As her walls begin to contract, gripping my cock tightly, pulling me deeper so that I feel the head bumping her cervix, Avery’s orgasm takes hold. Beginning as subtle ripples along the swollen, inner walls of her sex, it quickly increases to rhythmic tightening so strong it almost forces my cock out of her.

“Oh my God, Tanner. I’m coming. Please, don’t stop,” Avery mewls, wrapping all four limbs around me.

There’s no way I’m stopping. I can’t. I won’t. Especially when it’s only a matter of time – a minute at most – before I’m right there with her. My balls draw up tight against my body, and the tingles at the base of my spine signal my impending release about to overtake me.

In five more strokes, I plant myself deep, my body stills, and I roar my release into her neck. Repeating her name over and over, I empty myself inside her.

“Jesus, Avery. Fuck. You feel so good, baby. So, so fucking good.”

I don’t stop the slow glide of my cock until I’ve milked the last of our mutual climaxes from our bodies, content with staying inside of Avery as long as she’ll let me.

“Wow,” she breathes when our heart rates have finally calmed down.

“I think this is more of a holy fuck moment, baby. Wow just doesn’t cover it,” I grin, stroking a piece of damp hair from her forehead.

“Yeah, I tend to agree.”

Withdrawing from her body, I watch as our joint release leaks from her pussy. Seeing that triggers something I haven’t felt before, so I go with it. With two of my fingers, I gather up some of the wetness, rubbing it into her mound before pushing what’s left over back inside her. I don’t stop until every last drop is back where it should be, and Avery’s begging me to make her come again. Which, mind you, I do four more times before we lay watching the sun rise together.

Just as she’s dozing off to sleep, exhausted, and no doubt tender from my thorough worshipping of her beautiful body, I whisper into her hair,

“You know what this means, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbles sleepily, placing a soft kiss on my chest.

“This means, you’re mine. Every single fucking piece of you is mine.”

Feeling her smile against my chest, she quietly replies,

“Well, then I suppose that means you’re mine too.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say without hesitation.

Closing my eyes, fucking ecstatic the outcome of tonight wasn’t what I’d expected, I’m just about to drift off when I hear,

“I choose you, Tanner Fury Scott. I’ll always choose you.”

I wake up with a start realizing it has to be about midday if the way the sun is shining brightly through my curtains is anything to go by. However, that’s not what woke me.

What woke me from the incredible dream I was having was Fury’s tongue rasping against the sensitive skin of my folds, flicking my clit. It seems the man is one of many talents, I muse, reaching down, tangling my fingers in his hair. The way he’s stimulating all the nerve ending in my pussy has my toes curling as a long moan escapes my throat.

“You taste fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, burying his face between my legs sucking my clit into his mouth.

Applying the perfect amount of pressure, Fury inserts two thick fingers into my core, curving them upward until they graze over the little bundle of nerves he knows will make me come harder than I’ve ever come before.

He learned this about me last night. I might not have had much experience with men – until Fury all of which had been bad – but I’ve spent enough time pleasuring myself I was sure I needed clitoral stimulation to get off. I was wrong. Not that I’m complaining. The way Fury mapped my body and spent time learning what would make me moan and beg, and what would drive me wild was spectacular.

After hearing from my friends how their boyfriends and sexual partners treated them, it’s horrible to say, but I was worried Fury might be the same. According to them, most of the men they’ve been with were more concerned with getting themselves off, using the woman’s body as a tool to do that, than they were about returning the favor.

However, Fury’s exhaustive – for both him and me – exploration of my body last night and this morning proved my assumptions were indeed misguided. He dedicated the majority of the time we were naked on me; he was an after-thought. When I tried to point this out, Fury grinned at me, telling me that I could have my turn later. A later which hasn’t happened yet.

The rotation of Fury’s fingers hitting a particularly deep spot inside me pulls me from my memories. Alternating between working my clit with his tongue and the thumb of his other hand, and plunging that talented tongue into my pussy, Fury doesn’t let up as I begin writhing underneath him.

My back bows off the bed, unashamedly striving to push more of me into his mouth. Fury must feel the tell-tale tremors of my impending orgasm because he then thrusts a third finger into my desperate pussy, causing me to cry out his name, succumbing to number three on the ‘Greatest Orgasm Ever’ scale.

“Fuck, Tanner,” I pant, releasing his hair, flopping back onto the mattress limply.

Fury’s not done with me yet, though. Looming above me, condom in hand, he gives me a few seconds to recover before spreading my legs and fitting himself between them.

He was so gentle, so cautious last night. I don’t want him to have to feel like he need to hold back with me. I get why he was worried, I was too, but I don’t want it to be that way between us always. If we’re going to make this work, Fury has to be able to be himself.

Pressing my lips to his, I allow myself to get lost in his kiss for long minutes before pulling back almost breathless.

“Don’t hold back this time, Tanner. I understand why you think you have to, but I want all of you. I trust you, and I know you’d never hurt me. Show me how much you want me, honey.”

“My fucking pleasure,” he growls, slamming himself into me.

Thrusting into me, Fury rotates his hips, grinding his pubic bone against my already over-sensitive clit. I raise my hand, resting it on his cheek, gently stroking the stubble there and smile at him.

That’s another thing about, Fury. He isn’t Fury when we make love; he’s Tanner. It’s amazing how one man can be two entirely different people, but it’s something I love about him all the same.

Fury is strong, silent, intelligent, and deadly. Tanner is kind, sweet, considerate, and soulful. Without one, the other can’t exist, and together they make the perfect man. Or, at least, the perfect man for me. Because that’s what I coming to understand. Fury is my perfect match. Bella was absolutely right. We are two halves of a matching set.

Focusing on the burning intensity of Fury’s beautiful blue eyes, I wrap my legs around him and hold on tight. Later, with his tongue plunging in and out of my mouth mimicking the motion of his cock, Fury’s hand tweaking the tight bud of my nipple, and his cock that’s drilling inside me, I explode.

Like the last however many, my orgasm doesn’t creep up on me. It tears through me hard and fast, stealing my breath, and causing darkness to tint the edge of my vision until the only thing keeping me anchored to consciousness is Fury himself.

“Fuck, yes. Come for me, Avery. Come all over my cock,” Fury growls, pumping into me, furiously seeking out his own climax.

Um, I don’t know if he’s aware, but at this point, it’s not like I have much say in the matter. I can already feel my pussy beginning to spasm around him, drawing him deeper. Begging him to make me come, I moan,

“Harder, Tanner. Fuck me harder.” It only takes seconds after my demand for Fury to make me come, which gives me the unique opportunity to watch his orgasm take hold.

Seeing Fury climax is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, or for that matter, felt. It’s a full body experience. Fury’s muscles tighten, causing the veins in his forearms to stand out against the tanned skin of his arms. Sweat drips down the hollows and rippling eight pack that makes up his abs, adding to our combined wetness where our hips meet. The way his eyes widen and his pupils dilate causes me to shiver at the lust and hunger in them, as does the way his jaw clenches, showing me how hard he’s working to make this last for both of us.

But what has me fascinated is the way his chest heaves up and down fighting for breath. His sharp inhalations, followed by the sounds he makes – the deep growls and groans – as he finds his pleasure using my body to do it is magnificent.

The moment his climax claims him, his body goes taut and he whispers,

“I love you, Avery. It’s always been you.”

Gliding my hands over his shoulders and cupping his jaw, I reply,

“I love you more.”

At my confession, Fury throws his head back and roars his release to the ceiling. I slowly caress the hot, hard muscles of his back, running my hand up and down his spine. When his head dips and his eyes meet mine, I smile at him brightly.

“I fucking love your smile, baby,” Fury rumbles into my shoulder as he rolls us until we’re facing each other, my front to his.

“And I love you making me smile,” I say, grinning now. “But this one isn’t because you just gave me number six on the ‘Greatest Orgasm Ever’ scale.”

Chuckling, Fury plants a kiss on the tip of my nose, asking,

“The what?”

“I decided seeing as you’re so good at giving them, I should have some way to rate them.”

“And why would you need to rate them, baby? Eventually, I’m going to have given you so many you’ll have lost count.” Arrogant much?

“Because all men like competition, of course,” I reply as if he should already know this.

“But I’d be competing with myself, baby. No other man’s going to get the chance to be where I am right now, so the point is mute,” he mumbles kissing the corner of my mouth.

Pushing against his chest, I tut him.

“No more of that mister. I’ve got things to do today.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Fury growls, pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, big guy, but I’m not staying in bed with you all day. I need to get up, shower, buy food because we’ve got none, and then tackle the never ending pile of laundry that’s currently accumulating to epic proportions.” All of which is true.

I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. If I don’t, I’ll soon run out of clean underwear. It’s common sense that no one should leave the house without donning a fresh pair of panties. My Mom once told me, accidents happen and on the off chance I get in one, I don’t want to be caught wearing dirty underwear. At the time that wasn’t my highest priority, but it was something I’ve never forgotten. Go figure.

“I don’t have anything to do until later when I’ve got church, so I’ll take you,” Fury offers.

Well, it’s not really an offer, more like a demand but whatever. If he wants to take me grocery shopping, who am I to say no? Not to mention, if he does I get to ride on the back of his bike, so it’s win-win really.

“Sure,” I chirp, rolling off the side of the bed, padding toward the bathroom surprisingly okay with being naked in front of him.

*****

My therapist warned me of the potential risks I might face when I decided to become intimate with someone after my attack. By the time he was finished reading what felt like one hundred and thirty-seven pages of possible issues I may have to face, (there weren’t really that many pages, more like two, but who’s counting) I was completely and utterly terrified.

The prospect that I might never be able to enjoy the act of sex between two consenting adults made me feel worse than I had before. Just imagining myself having a flashback while I was with a man was enough to make me want to check myself into a convent and take a vow of celibacy.

I knew then there was only one man I would trust with my mind and body when it would be at its most vulnerable. He had never given me a reason to distrust him – broken promises aside –I knew deep down he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. And he definitely wouldn’t take what I was giving him for granted.

It wasn’t as if it was a conscious decision. I didn’t wake up one morning and say; I’m ready to ask Fury to fuck me seven ways from Sunday now. Not even close. It was gradual. So gradual that for a while there I thought there was something wrong with me.

I mean, what twenty-five-year-old woman for all intents and purposes is basically asexual? Desire was a thing of the past, every time I thought about the touch of a man’s hands, his breath against my skin, and the way it felt the first time I was penetrated, my stomach clenched violently and I had to fight off the urge to vomit.

My first clue that I was finally ready to move on was when the dreams of Fury and I in compromising positions began. They weren’t explicit. If anything, they were more intimate moments rather than sex dreams. Sure, they had the same effect, that being I woke up turned on beyond belief, but it was easy to ignore that and focus on what they meant instead.

However, knowing that I was ready for the main event, and actually being ready were two very different things. My emotions were at war with my rationality for weeks before I recognized the only way I’d know is if I tried.

Thankfully, Fury’s impatience worked in my favor this time because how freaking embarrassing would it have been to approach him and practically solicit sex from the man. I’m sure after he finished laughing his ass off he would have agreed, but I didn’t want him laughing at me.

I love him so much that it would have devastated me if he hadn’t taken my offer seriously. My courage was a fickle bitch on the best of days – coming and going as she pleased. While the idea of walking up to Fury, telling him I wanted him to strip me and have his way with me sounded perfectly acceptable in my head, I wasn’t sure how it would come across in person.

Everything I’ve said, felt and struggled with boils down to this. I’m glad I followed my instincts and placed my trust in Fury because he didn’t disappoint me. He was tender and patient. Fury reassured me with every word he spoke before, during, and after. He worshiped my body, making me feel beautiful. Special even.

My insecurities over the scars that will be forever visible were erased when Fury took my hand in his and whispered,

“You’re right, Avery. I can see your scars. I can see the marks they left on your soul. I can even feel your fucking pain. But you’re wrong if you think they change the way I feel about you. I want you just as much now as I did before. To me, you’re perfect.”

After his heartfelt decree the anxiety I felt around baring my body to him evaporated. The fact is; I knew the words came from his heart because the truth of them was evident in every touch, look, and caress. Fury spent hours proving his feeling for me.