Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (43 page)

I wanted him on top of me, hot and throbbing, slamming me into the floor while he worked between my legs. I wanted to smell our sweat mingle when he was deep inside me, claiming me for real, shattering the game of pretend we'd been playing with insatiable lust and twitching flesh.

Honestly, I'd already lost my mind. Now the only question was whether I'd walk into the madness losing him, or else losing myself on his flesh, losing my entire world on him as he filled me, stretched me, clawed at my flesh, and split my mind in two on his dick.

I couldn't kill him. No fucking way. This whole thing was crazy and I didn't know if there even was a way out alive anymore, but more bloodshed wasn't the answer.

I turned the knife over in my hand, holding it up. With a heavy sigh, I lowered it, trying to find some way to retract the blade.

I never heard him wake up, much less climb off the sofa. He crashed into me from behind, flattening my hand holding the blade. I jerked once and flipped over, surprised I hadn't screamed.

We were face to face. He was shirtless and magnificent, pure hellfire in his expression, dark tattoos running up and down his muscular chest. He'd landed between my legs – the last place in the world he should be, especially when I had nothing on underneath my long sleeping shirt except my panties and filthy desires blazing in my belly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, eyeing the blade in my hand.

It was still tilted up, sturdy, his hand pinning down my wrist. “I don't...I just saw it laying there and wanted to see what it was. I didn't mean to do anything, Brass. Honest.”

He stared deep into my eyes and shook his head. Finally, he threw his hand away, but not before pulling my wrist up, aiming the dagger at the tight packed muscles on his abdomen.

“Bullshit. I know a person mulling a kill when I see one.” His breaths came heavy, and he spoke slow, soft. “Fucking do it if this is what you want. Put me outta my goddamned misery and leave. Do it!”

My hand shook against his. I tried to release my fingers, drop the knife, get away from him, but he wouldn't let me. He pulled it closer, dragging the very tip of the killer blade to his chest, right above his heart.

“One more fucking push, and you're free. This is what you want, right, babe?”

“No!” I wasn't sure how I managed to keep my voice down without screaming in his face.

It came out sharp, hit him in the face. Brass' hand squeezed, bending my knuckles in, and then let go. The knife fell onto the carpet next to me. When I looked down to see it, I realized my whole body was shaking underneath him.

“Can't say I never gave you a chance, Missy,” he said, peeling back and hovering over me, his hands planted on the floor. “Wake me up when you know what you want.”

The smug tension in his voice struck deep, setting off a bomb inside me. Next thing I knew, I jerked up, threw my arms around his neck, and smashed my mouth on his.

Our lips touched like lightning criss-crossing the sky.

Brass' mouth was hard, unmoving for a single second, and then he parted his lips and grunted. His arms slid around me, pulling me up, smashing my breasts against his chest as he pushed my lips apart with his tongue.

God, he was hungry. I'd never been kissed like this. But then, no other man had kissed me after holding a knife to his heart before, baring everything, life and death and lust.

Brass growled, lowering me to the floor, reaching up to my long brown hair. He tangled several strands in one fist and ripped my head back, all the better to access my lips, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth.

He licked the way I imagined he fucked. Rough, fast, and totally dominant. There was no playful tease in these kisses, no gentle build. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, holding me open for his tongue. He found mine and led in a fiery dance, licking against my soft, wet tongue until I had to follow him, kissing him the way he wanted.

No mistake: I wanted it hard. I wanted to kiss and feel and fuck. I was done thinking.

It was the best alternative in the world to screaming and beating at his chest, crying like a broken fool on the floor. He saved me from all that – he saved me.
Again.

All my blazing emotions shot to my heart, where they were ejected as pure lust, a powerful need to feel him all over me.

For once, Brass and I were on the same wavelength too. Our flesh sang in unison, tense and ready.

After a couple minutes on my lips, his free hand moved, starting at my knee and sliding straight up. His calloused hand kissed my thigh, on its way to the soaked black lace between my legs. He growled through his kiss as he shoved my gusset aside and rubbed two fingers up and down my slit, a short, rhythmic test before he pushed them inside me.

Fuck! Oh. My. God!

I grunted in his mouth as he worked through my folds. My pussy wrapped around his fingers and shifted each time he went a little deeper. His strokes were soft at first, but quickly grew faster and harder, dipping in and out in long jerks until his thumb pressed on my clit.

I broke the kiss, begging for air, feeling my lungs and everything below the waist turning to stone. Brass yanked on my hair and held me up to him as I sucked precious air, face-to-face. Lust incarnate looked back at me, pure desire formed from all the hate and want between us, finally set free.

“Do I need to stuff my hand in your mouth when you come?” He pushed his face closer, dragging rough stubble across my cheek. My thighs rippled together, locked around his hand, bucking for relief.

I realized he was talking about Jackie, asleep down the hall.
Damn!

“No...I can't let her hear...I think I can keep it –“

Together?
No fucking way. A voice deep in my head laughed.

“Oh!” My lips formed a perfect circle and my vision blurred.

I gasped, sweated, pinched my thighs tight around his palm. Jesus, I needed him, needed him to finish kindling the fire he'd ignited in my core.

Brass' hand went mad, moving like clockwork through my folds, or maybe like a clockmaker who knew exactly how to wind my pussy up until I shattered. It felt so fucking good, but I couldn't scream. I'd never forgive myself if Jackie woke up and came in here to find us like this.

I had to keep it down. I had to stop myself from –

Brass made sure I'd be screaming in his hand, and nowhere else. He moved it out of my hair and covered my mouth as his face moved down. He caught the edge of my shirt and tugged it up with his teeth, stopping the hypnotic circles between my legs just long enough to rip my panties down.

When I realized the only place he was going was
down,
I started to pant. Rough stubble and hard, sucking kisses danced along my cleavage, then rode my stomach, drawing me against his mouth.

His face pushed between my legs and took over where his hand left off. My body jerked against his, grinding into his hot hand. I thought his fingers were good, but his tongue – Christ! – I was finished.

Hot, long, godly licks steamed through my folds. He tongued my wetness eagerly, like my cream was the booze the men sucked constantly at the clubhouse, trailing his licks up to my clit. When he found it, my whole pussy sizzled on his face, ready to come apart.

Muscles tensed up and convulsed, small bundles across my body I didn't even know I had. He must've known I was about to burst because he shoved the edge of his hand into my mouth, forcing me to bite him.

I did. But it wasn't enough. I barely had time to beat my hands on his shoulders before the insistent, tight fireball in my womb exploded. My thighs locked around his head and I came, groaning against his palm, losing total control.

My eyes rolled back, lost in black and white and red. I never came so hard, flailing against him as he held me down, never stopping the wild, rhythmic tongue laps on my clit. He completely smothered it as I rode his face, my pussy convulsing around him, like he was breathing lightning through my nerves with every insatiable lick.

I came. I climaxed the pain and hurt of the last few weeks, the insanity of doing it with him, giving myself over to desires that were sick and taboo on a good day. Having him between my legs was so damned wrong, but my body told me it was right.

There was no doubting it. The saner, rational bitch I became to keep myself safe would've jumped through the roof in horror, but pleasure didn't lie. And pleasure won out in the end, overpowering my regrets, my fears, my doubts.

His tongue fucked me until I couldn't even breathe, buried beneath a couple hundred pounds of huge, hard, tattooed muscle. I barely had time to worry about whether or not his hand stifled the carnal pleas ripping up my throat.

When I looked up, he was hovering over me, the two fingers he'd had inside me near his lips. The fire in his emerald eyes doubled when he stuck them in his mouth, giving them a good, long suck before wiping his chin.

“You taste even fucking better than I imagined. I'd give up whiskey for that sweet little cunt.”

I laughed, slapping his shoulders again. Okay, now I knew he'd lost his mind. But Brass acted perfectly sane and determined as he brought his hands to his boxers. My eyes followed, and I noticed the monstrous hard-on straining there, looking like it would punch through the thin fabric any second.

Horny curiosity tingled through me. I swept one hand down below his belly, reaching for his dick. I found it, and squeezed, hissing through my teeth.

God, he was big. Hard. Ready to fuck me through the floor, just like I wanted.

Brass wrapped his hand over mine and gripped, making me squeeze him harder. “That's what you want, babe? Okay. I would've taken a switchblade in the guts for you. But I sure like satisfying this fucking need a whole lot more...”

I pursed my lips, trying not to drool all over the floor. My pussy wouldn't stop melting as I felt his ridge, running my fingers over it, sensing his pulse in my fingertips.

“Do it.” It was my turn to whisper those words.

Brass didn't need any reminders. He hooked his fingers to his boxers and jerked them down. They fell with a snap and he rolled, wriggling out of them, grabbing his jeans off the chair.

My heart did a flip when I saw the small metallic package in his hand. He looked at me, winked, and threw it at me.

“You know how to do this, right? Put it on. I won't pass up any excuse to get your hands on my dick again.”

I'd never rolled a condom on a man, but it wasn't like I was going to say no. I eyed the light coming through the blinds nervously, hoping Jackie stayed up late so she'd sleep in. Good thing teenagers were out like the dead most mornings.

I quickly tore the foil, trying not to make too much noise. The latex popped softly in my fingers, and I moved it to him, gnawing my bottom lip when I brought it to his swollen head. Brass grunted, satisfied, watching with new flames in his eyes while I pushed it down his length.

There was something extra sensual about that – almost as good as sinking down on his bare, hard cock. Almost. But of course feeling him skin-to-skin would've been even better.

For now, this would have to do. And when he shifted up, fisting my hair, planting himself between my legs, I knew it'd do
very
nicely.

He kissed me deep, rubbing his length up and down my wet slit, nestling his cock in my folds. I squirmed, wishing he'd just fuck me already. Not that I wasn't enjoying the foreplay, but the fire inside me needed to be fed, needed to be
filled.

“Fuck, baby girl. You know I wanted this pussy the minute I saw you?
This
pussy, the one I was glad to claim, the one I wanted for real...nobody else's. When I take this beautiful cunt, it's going on a long, hard ride, and it's never coming back. This. Is.
Mine.
Mine!”

That word was like magic. Black, crazy, alien magic, making me tingle all over. The way he rubbed his erection up and down my slit while he whispered his filthy promises in my ear had a lot to do with its power too.

Brass rose up, tilting his hips, ready to sink inside me. I caught one glimpse of the raging bear tattooed to his chest, symbol of the Grizzlies MC, right before he thrust. His cock penetrated deep, opening me, unstopping until his balls rested against my ass.

I was so full, so fast, I started to shake. There was no slowing down, though. Not when he wanted to fuck me this bad, claim me for real. Thrust by thrust, he told me what he wanted to do: twist the crappy lie we'd lived into truth with flesh, sweat, and ecstasy.

Was it possible?

My body didn't say no. His strokes came harder, faster, making my body ripple. He fucked with purpose, taking as much pleasure as he gave. The big, inked claws tattooed on his arms rippled around me, dancing like black flames.

I threw my legs around his waist and locked onto his neck with my hands, all the better to ride out the storm, the tempest we both needed to thrash all the shit we'd suffered to pieces. I felt like I was floating after a minute of taking his dick, but it was just my own hips flying up, desperate to meet his thrusts.

Everything below my waist turned warm and tight, smoky and electric. Soon, I'd be coming again, harder than when he licked me to finish.

As soon as I started to claw at his shoulders, he held one hand to my mouth. My eyes went wide, rolling a little as he pounded his hips to mine, pressing his cock to my limits.

“Don't scream. Let it out in my fucking hand, babe. You sing like a whore with little sis in the other room and we'll never be able to finish.” Suddenly, he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Maybe I ought to finish this faster for both of us? Or do you wanna fuck good and slow, risk everything combusting on my dick?”

I shuddered. Whatever way he fucked me, I was going to come soon, and I moaned into his hand.

It was all he needed. His thrusts slowed, but the pressure increased. He slid back gradually before he threw his hips into mine, hammering me apart, breaking me open for him.

My clit hummed when he dragged his pubic bone against me. Short, trim hair gave its delicious friction, maddening as it was pleasurable.