Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC by Britten Thorne Page B

unbuttoned the fly of her shorts. “I’ll bet you’re one of those bitches who can only get off using a vibrator, aren’t you.”
    Was he deliberately provoking her or did he just not have a filter? She did not want to have this conversation. Nevermind that he’d guessed right. “That’s not your business.” His hand squeezed inside her shorts and he slid two fingers down along the material of her panties, his touch just too damn light. She squirmed.
    “Fuck, you are wet. You aren’t cold down here at least, that’s for damn sure.” He pushed her shorts a little further down, just enough to make room for his hand, and then the panties with them.
    “What happened to not getting undressed?” God, just fucking touch me, please!
    “They’re open, not off.” Finally, he dragged his fingers along her swollen pussy lips, a light touch at first, then probing deeper, spreading her wetness. She’d never felt such an ache; her hips lifted from the floor, moving against her will. Her clit throbbed with such a yearning, she wanted to scream. “Gunner,” she said again. If his intention was to make her beg, he was dangerously close to succeeding, damn him.
    “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, “Don’t hold back. I sure as hell don’t. Let me hear you.”
    She gasped and bucked against him as he found her recess, his fingers slick with her fluids. He pressed two just a bare inch inside and teased her with shallow thrusts. “Please.” It slipped from her in a whisper.
    “Louder.”
    “Please-” His lips smashed against hers, cutting off whatever else she’d been about to say. He slid his tongue slowly inside her mouth just as he slid his fingers deep inside her channel, stroking against every inch of her. Oh. Shit.
    He was going to do it. He was going to make her come, right there with him on the motel room floor.
    The last shred of control within her snapped, then. She could feel the remnants of her stoic demeanor melting away as she dug her fingers into Gunner’s hair and pulled him tighter yet against her mouth, as her hips bucked and danced with the rhythm of his hand, thrusting in and out of her. That slow, steady rhythm that would drive her crazy with desire. She wanted more, harder, faster. She tried to urge him with her hips but he wasn’t having it. This was his show, and he was going for a slow build.
    She gasped when he broke their kiss and stared down into her eyes. The icy blue of his own were darkened with desire.
    “So fucking tight,” he grated, “If you’re good maybe I will fuck you later.” The way he moved his body above hers, rocking with the motion of his hand, she could imagine that he already was.
    She moaned, “Oh, God,” in response, shutting her eyes. He chose that moment to find her clit with his thumb. He pressed against it with each stroke, the digit sliding against it slowly, pulling all the swirling sensations within her tighter and tighter. A storm was brewing and about to break, and it was going to be explosive. She couldn’t stop it if she wanted to; all she could do was give herself over to everything Gunner was making her feel.
    She moaned, long and loud as she spiraled towards her climax. This never happens, I don’t lose it like this. Justifications ran through her mind - it had been too long since she’d last had sex or even gotten off at all. It was a fluke. It was because she really liked looking at his face and hearing his voice. It was because he body was just so damn grateful to still be alive and functioning. Maybe she was sick, maybe she had a fever, maybe this was a dream. But when it came down to it, it was just him. He played her like a damn expert, as if he’d studied her like a book. His intense focus and his cocky attitude and the way he took his time - she never stood a chance. What woman would?
    “Look at me.” Teetering on the edge, she peeled her eyes open and gasped as she stared up into his. Whatever he saw in her face in that moment made