Motorcycle Man (34 page)

Oh yes. Hell yes. God
yes.

He guided the tip of his cock to my lips. I opened them and he slid inside.

Oh yes.
Hell
yes.
God yes.

He started moving and I sucked and stroked him with my tongue. I liked it so much, it was building again and I started moaning against his quickening thrusts.

“Mouth is greedy too,” he grunted then ordered a rough, “Touch yourself.”

My hand moved between my legs, I moaned deep and my hips jerked yet again as my knees slid a bit out to the sides. I was so turned on, my own touch sent shockwaves throughout my body.

“Fuck, beautiful,” Tack whispered, his strokes deepening, going faster. “So fuckin’ beautiful, baby.”

I took him in my mouth, touched myself between my legs, moaned and let it build until suddenly Tack pulled out.

I gave a small cry of protest but before I could complete it, I felt the short zipper at the back of my dress going down. When it was down, my torso was yanked up because Tack was yanking off my dress. Then he had a strong arm around my waist and I was moving swiftly toward him and up. His other hand was between his legs and my legs automatically wrapped around his hips just as he jerked me down, guiding himself inside at the same time and I was full of him.

“Finally,” I breathed and Tack moved.

Connected to me, he shifted on his knees until I was back against the headboard.

Then he fucked me.

“Told you you’d get my cock,” he muttered against my mouth.

Well, he gave me what he promised in more ways than one.

“Shut up and concentrate,” I ordered and his hips thrust harder.

Oh yeah.

“Now who’s bossy?” he grunted.

“You’re not concentrating.”

He pulled out and then slammed back in. “Oh yeah, baby, I fuckin’ am.”

He sure was.

“Tip your hips, Red, I wanna go deep,” he grunted and I did. He went deep and I moaned. “You like that.”

“I do,” I gasped. “I like everything about you, honey. Everything. Lived in black and white seems like all my life. Never noticed. Not until you colored my world.”

Tack went completely still.

I tightened my arms and legs around him, demanding, “Tack, don’t stop!”

He started again. His hand at my ass tipping my hips further, he went faster, harder and a whole lot deeper and it took about two seconds before it built so high, it exploded and, clutching him close, I came again.

I was recovering, he was still thrusting and I felt his eyes on my face in the dark. Then I felt the tickle of his goatee and the movement of his lips against mine as he groaned, “Beautiful,” buried himself inside, took my mouth and came, growling down my throat.

I knew his orgasm left him when his kiss gentled. He kept me tight to him and the headboard as he kept kissing me, soft, sweet but still wet and deep.

After he did this a while, and I enjoyed it that while, his lips slid down my cheek to the skin behind my ear and he whispered, “Love that greedy pussy of yours, Red.”

I turned my head and with my lips at the hair curling around his neck I whispered back, “Good.”

“And your hair,” he went on and I smiled against his neck.

“Good.”

“This ass,” his hand at my ass gave me a squeeze, “your long-ass legs, those heels.”

“I like your cock,” I shared.

“I got that.”

“And your tats.”

“Good to know.”

“And, um, lots of other things.”

He was silent for long moments before he said quietly, “Yeah.”

Then he unfortunately pulled out but held me to him as he yanked the covers from under his knees. He set me in the bed on my back but he didn’t move into me. Straddling me, he bent and kissed my breastbone. Then he moved down and kissed between my breasts. Down and another kiss at my belly. Down and then, one by one, he took off my shoes but when he did, he kissed the arch of each foot before setting my leg back in the bed.

And as he did this, I watched and deep breathed because something was happening. I was too sated from sex and too drunk to know what it was. I just knew it was something.

Something big.

Mammoth.

Colossal.

“Honey?” I called and he moved back up, straddling me, now at my hips but he stopped there and reached out an arm, his hand curling around my throat like he’d done those two times after I was kidnapped.

He didn’t speak but his eyes were on me. I saw them through the dark and I
felt
them.

“Kane?” I whispered when he didn’t move for a long time.

His hand slid from my throat gliding down my chest, between my breasts to my belly but he did this not saying a word. Then he moved, shifting to my side and settling there. He reached out to yank up the covers before he tucked me tight to his side, his arm not around my waist but up, his fingers cupping the back of my head and forcing my cheek to his shoulder.

“Is everything all right?” I asked his chest.

“Oh yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

Well, that was firm.

I stared at his chest.

Then I whispered a hesitant, “Okay.”

“How drunk are you, babe?” he asked.

“Drunk.”

“So drunk you’re gonna forget tonight?”

“No. I’ve never been that drunk.”

“We’ll see about changin’ that,” he muttered.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re gonna live life, Red. I’m gonna teach you to suck it dry.”

I took in a deep breath thinking he already was.

Then I whispered again, “Okay.”

“Sleep.”

“Okay.”

“And you forget tonight, I’ll be pissed.”

“I won’t forget, Tack.”

“Be sure about that.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“Are you going to shut up and let me pass out?”

His hand left my head, his arm sliding down and he wrapped it around my waist, pulling me closer.

Then he whispered, “Yeah.”

I snuggled even closer.

Something had happened. I didn’t know what and I stared at his chest while I tried to figure it out.

I did this for about two seconds before I passed out.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and smelled musk and man. Correction,
my
man. I liked it but I also felt something else that wasn’t nearly as awesome and instantly I groaned.

Hangover.

Damn.

Tack rolled into me and I groaned again.

He settled, chest partly on mine, and his slumberous eyes caught mine.

“Queasy?” he guessed accurately which made me wonder what I looked like because I knew I had wild hair. I also knew I had leftover makeup which was never attractive but I was deducing I also was green at the gills which was even less attractive.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Day off,” Tack stated.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“You feel shit, day off.”

“But… I’m hungover.”

“Yeah. So you’re gonna take the day off.”

“Tack,” I started to inform him, “you’re my boss. You should frown on an employee taking the day off because she tied one on the night before.”

“Tyra, I’m your boss, I’m your man and I’m a biker. As your boss, you feel shit, you’re not gonna be on your game so you might fuck shit up which means it’s better you’re not in and work doesn’t get done instead of you bein’ in and work gettin’ fucked up.”

I had to admit, this made sense.

He continued, “As your man, you feel shit, I want you to rest and get better.”

And I had to admit to this, it was sweet.

He kept going, “And as a biker, I live wild, I want you to too and I don’t give a fuck if that has the consequences of a day off work to get over a hangover. In fact, I like it. You can make up the time. You can blow it off. The work’ll get done. Work isn’t important. Livin’ a good life wild and free is.”

Maybe it was the hangover but I couldn’t figure out how he could be making sense, I agreed with him at the same time I thought he was sweet when just two and a half weeks ago all he said I would have thought was wrong.

“I’m not up to conversation,” I shared.

“You up to bacon and eggs?”

I fought back a gag and groaned, “No.”

Tack grinned then advised, “Babe, food is good for a hangover.”

I fought back another gag and ordered, “Stop talking about food.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “You want coffee?”

“I could do coffee. And aspirin.”

“Then I’ll get you coffee and aspirin,” he muttered.

“Thanks, honey,” I muttered back and his eyes locked on mine.

“I color your world.”

I blinked and my heart stopped.

How did he…?

Oh crap! I told him!

Drunk, in the middle of great sex, I told him!

Ohmigod!

“I –”

“I was right. You were asleep but you were dreamin’. You dream in black and white, babe. I gave you color. Now, you’re awake.”

“Tack –”

“You admitted it.”

“Tack, please –”

“You were drunk, wet, hot and way the fuck turned on but you still admitted it.”

I did and the way he was looking at me, his blue eyes drilling into mine, I couldn’t deny it.

And also, it was true.

Damn.

“I’m in no state so can we not talk about this?” I requested.

“Yeah, we can not talk about this. Just want it confirmed you get that you gave that to me.”

“I get that I gave that to you,” I whispered, powerless to do anything but.

“Okay, baby, then now I’ll confirm that you get what it means to me.”

I stayed silent and stared.

Tack didn’t stay silent.

“Seen a lot, done a lot, met a lot of people. Most of ‘em, I like. Some of ‘em, I don’t. Some of ‘em, I hate. But did so much and knew so many, the unexpected is rare. I color your world, you give me the unexpected. We’re now totally balanced, Red. You didn’t know it but you had the upper hand. Now I know what I give you, it means as much as what you give me, we’re on the same level. And I like it like that.”

He was kind of freaking me out.

And, contradictorily, he was kind of not.

Either way, I couldn’t deal with this hungover.

“Stop talking, Tack.”

“I will when you assure me you took in what I said.”

“I took in what you said,” I replied quietly.

“Are you processing it?”

“I’m hungover, Tack.”

“You got the day to process it. You also got the day to get over that hangover. Tabby says she’s cookin’ tonight which means you’re on the back of my bike tonight and spendin’ the night at my place.”

My heart was pumping fast and my stomach was roiling.

“You’re talking about food again, Tack.”

“Pack a bag.”

“Okay.”

“
No, I mean
pack a bag.
”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “Pardon?”

“You’re gonna be spendin’ lots of nights in my bed in the mountains, babe. Come equipped to do that. I’ll load the saddlebags on the bike.”

My mind was whirling.

“Tyra, did you hear me?”

“Saddlebags. Come equipped. Tabby making dinner. I heard.”

“Good.”

“Coffee, Tack.”

“Right.”

“And aspirin.”

“You got it, baby.”

He touched his mouth to mine and I concentrated on not hurling as he rolled and angled out of bed making it shift and sway in a way that was supremely nauseating. When he was out, I rolled to my side, shoving my hands under my cheek and concentrated on his fantastic body as he yanked on his jeans finding this helped you forget you were hungover, if only for seconds. Still, it worked.

What worked better was, once he had his jeans on, him turning to the bed, bending over, putting a hand into it, arm straight, other arm stretched to me so his hand could come to his jaw and his thumb could sweep the apple of my cheek.

Yes, during that maneuver, I totally forgot I was hungover.

Then he moved away and was at the door when he stopped and his eyes came to me.

At the look in them, I braced.

“You have no clue,” he whispered.

“No clue about what?” I whispered back.