lives."
"Don't,"
he said, taking a step toward her.
"You can take
your don't and shove it up your ass, Slade Ramchett." She searched
the room, found Bruce, and said, "I'm leaving early, so you can dock my
pay. If Rain has a problem with it, well he can take some of Slade's don't and shove it up his ass too."
Her heels clicked
against the wooden floor, down the hallway, and into the back room where she
grabbed her purse. Her body vibrated with anger, and she wanted to scream or
cry. Everybody always said bikers were a hard bunch to love, and she agreed.
She loved Slade
enough for both of them, and he refused to see it. God, she could smack him.
For good measure,
she slammed the door on her way out the back door of the bar. Two bikers sat on
their motorcycles and she glared at them, just because right now her opinion of
bikers leveled working overtime in four-inch heels. She was so over both of
them.
She stuck her key
in her car door lock, and found herself twirling through the air. Her breath
whooshed out when her stomach met Slade's shoulder. She hung upside down and
screamed, kicking her feet.
"Let go of me."
She pounded Slade's ass.
He shifted her
farther back on his shoulder until she dangled from her hips. She inhaled a
much needed breath and grabbed onto the back of his jeans to keep from falling.
He continued walking with her, never missing a step.
"Dammit, put
me down now," she screamed.
He spanked her ass.
She yipped, and her whole body stiffened. Her head bounced off the back of his
legs with each of his steps. "Slade, please, let me down."
He climbed up onto
the porch of one of the cabins behind Cactus Cove where the members often
stayed and kicked in the door. Then he yanked her back over his shoulder and
slid her down the length of his body. A body hard and aroused.
The strength to
move away from him fled and the anger coiling deep in her stomach resembled a
mini orgasm. "Damn you," she whispered.
He captured her
lips and backed her up against the wall, holding her prisoner to put his hands
on her body. In the tangle of arms and legs, he had her tank off and her jean
skirt hiked to her waist. She removed his shirt and sprawled her hands on his
chest, needing his heat on her.
"Drive me
crazy, baby girl." He stroked his tongue along the curve of her neck,
while she heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper.
She could no longer
reject him than deny herself. Whatever sickness drove her to accepting less
than perfect also made her love him unconditionally. It wasn't rational or sane.
The love she had for Slade was there whether he pissed her off or took her to
paradise.
He lifted her off
the floor. She put her legs around his waist and linked her arms around his
neck. His hand went against the wall to protect her bare back as she slid down
on his hardness. Her body trembled and sighed in pleasure at the fullness. It
was always this way with him.
When he was inside
of her, holding her, words and promises were meaningless when she touched his
soul and received everything she needed in return. He couldn't hide his
feelings or act tough while they were having sex. Most of all, she was secure
and loved, because he wasn't leaving her.
He rhythmically
thrust against her, taking away all her control. Her body, in a mix of melting
and pulsating, accepted everything he was doing. His hand on her ass, his mouth
on her neck, his whiskers caressing her skin titillated her beyond thinking. Her
nipples ached and she writhed against his upper body. He sped up his movements,
holding her mobile and secure against the wall.
The musty scent of
desire lay heavy in the room. Their breathing strummed the air, surrounding her
in a hypnotic melody. Her blood pulsed in her veins, faster and faster. Her sex
squeezed him with each deliberate movement as jolts of pleasure stormed her
body. This was them, together and connected.
"You're
mine." He nudged her chin, and she kissed him.
His tongue matched the
movements of his lower body.
"Don't,"
he said, taking a step toward her.
"You can take
your don't and shove it up your ass, Slade Ramchett." She searched
the room, found Bruce, and said, "I'm leaving early, so you can dock my
pay. If Rain has a problem with it, well he can take some of Slade's don't and shove it up his ass too."
Her heels clicked
against the wooden floor, down the hallway, and into the back room where she
grabbed her purse. Her body vibrated with anger, and she wanted to scream or
cry. Everybody always said bikers were a hard bunch to love, and she agreed.
She loved Slade
enough for both of them, and he refused to see it. God, she could smack him.
For good measure,
she slammed the door on her way out the back door of the bar. Two bikers sat on
their motorcycles and she glared at them, just because right now her opinion of
bikers leveled working overtime in four-inch heels. She was so over both of
them.
She stuck her key
in her car door lock, and found herself twirling through the air. Her breath
whooshed out when her stomach met Slade's shoulder. She hung upside down and
screamed, kicking her feet.
"Let go of me."
She pounded Slade's ass.
He shifted her
farther back on his shoulder until she dangled from her hips. She inhaled a
much needed breath and grabbed onto the back of his jeans to keep from falling.
He continued walking with her, never missing a step.
"Dammit, put
me down now," she screamed.
He spanked her ass.
She yipped, and her whole body stiffened. Her head bounced off the back of his
legs with each of his steps. "Slade, please, let me down."
He climbed up onto
the porch of one of the cabins behind Cactus Cove where the members often
stayed and kicked in the door. Then he yanked her back over his shoulder and
slid her down the length of his body. A body hard and aroused.
The strength to
move away from him fled and the anger coiling deep in her stomach resembled a
mini orgasm. "Damn you," she whispered.
He captured her
lips and backed her up against the wall, holding her prisoner to put his hands
on her body. In the tangle of arms and legs, he had her tank off and her jean
skirt hiked to her waist. She removed his shirt and sprawled her hands on his
chest, needing his heat on her.
"Drive me
crazy, baby girl." He stroked his tongue along the curve of her neck,
while she heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper.
She could no longer
reject him than deny herself. Whatever sickness drove her to accepting less
than perfect also made her love him unconditionally. It wasn't rational or sane.
The love she had for Slade was there whether he pissed her off or took her to
paradise.
He lifted her off
the floor. She put her legs around his waist and linked her arms around his
neck. His hand went against the wall to protect her bare back as she slid down
on his hardness. Her body trembled and sighed in pleasure at the fullness. It
was always this way with him.
When he was inside
of her, holding her, words and promises were meaningless when she touched his
soul and received everything she needed in return. He couldn't hide his
feelings or act tough while they were having sex. Most of all, she was secure
and loved, because he wasn't leaving her.
He rhythmically
thrust against her, taking away all her control. Her body, in a mix of melting
and pulsating, accepted everything he was doing. His hand on her ass, his mouth
on her neck, his whiskers caressing her skin titillated her beyond thinking. Her
nipples ached and she writhed against his upper body. He sped up his movements,
holding her mobile and secure against the wall.
The musty scent of
desire lay heavy in the room. Their breathing strummed the air, surrounding her
in a hypnotic melody. Her blood pulsed in her veins, faster and faster. Her sex
squeezed him with each deliberate movement as jolts of pleasure stormed her
body. This was them, together and connected.
"You're
mine." He nudged her chin, and she kissed him.
His tongue matched the
movements of his lower body.
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