Running Wild (Hell Ryders MC Book 1) (18 page)

Nestled against his large frame, he carried her, and sat on the bed, her on his lap. One hand cupped the back of her head, the other tight around her back, holding her against his chest. “Don’t be scared, Allie. I’m here,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, the action so tender her heart clenched.

Gripping his shirt, she tilted her head to look up at him. Close enough to kiss him, she whispered, “You left me. You crazy, stupid biker. What if something happened to you?”

He had the gall to smile. “Nothing happened to me.”

“It could’ve.”

“You’d’ve been safe.”

What? He was
crazy
. “I was worried about you.”

“Needed to keep you safe. The only way to do that was look for the ass who’s terrified you.”

She swallowed. “Did you find him?”

He shook his head. “Got to call the cops.”

Was he serious? Badass biker wanted to call the cops for a cracked window, but not when Wyatt slapped her?

He must’ve read her thoughts in her expression. The next second, he said, “You need a report to get the window replaced by the insurance.”

“I don’t have insurance.”

His brows drew together. “You don’t have renter’s insurance?”

She shook her head.

“You should have renter’s insurance, Allie.” He sighed heavily like her having renter’s insurance mattered so much now. “Still gonna call the cops. Management needs to know what happened.”

She nodded, then straightened, intent on moving away.

His arm tightened around her. A breath away from her, he whispered, “Stay, Allie. You’re shaking.”

She didn’t argue. She’d been trembling since she’d woken startled and scared, and it hadn’t stopped. For some insane reason, it comforted her to have his arms around her and his scent filling her.

He shifted her slightly to pluck his phone out of his pocket then called 911. Ten minutes later, a knock sounded on the front door. He stood, the arm around her waist holding her up, then softly set her on her feet in front of him. His arm pressed against her back, his lips pressed against her forehead, he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay, Allie.”

When he drew away, his gaze trailed down her frame. She wore her PJ’s, a spaghetti strap shirt and jaw-string shorts. He inhaled visibly, grabbed the blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Grabbing her hand, he walked her to the couch where he told her to sit. He then headed for the door.

It took close to an hour for the cops to interview both of them, take pictures of the cracked window from the inside and out. Allie watched in a haze, riddled with nerves, still shivering. By the time, the cops left, all she wanted was sleep, so she could forget or try to.

The officers moved to the door, and then one of them turned to Jace. “Take care of your woman. She doesn’t look good.”

She waited for Jace to correct him. Instead he said, “Plan on it.”

The cops exited her apartment. Without removing his gaze from her, Jace closed and locked the door then closed the distance between them. Sitting beside her, he tugged her against him until she sat on his lap, pressed against his chest.

“Still shakin’, Allie.”

She buried her face in his neck and inhaled. “Wonder why people assume we’re together. If they only knew, I’m just a favor for a friend.”

He cupped her face and drew it to his. His jaw clenched, but his eyes spoke volumes. A deep ache reflected in them. She didn’t know why and hated seeing it. She hated more that a man like him, so strong and brave, could feel pain and express it so easily. He was supposed to be an angry biker, and yet he wasn’t, or at least it wasn’t all of who he was.

Because she didn’t want to see it anymore, because she was scared, and because he’d saved her again, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

It was wrong and stupid, too, but at the moment, she didn’t care because his lips were soft and full and pressed against hers.

Feeling heat creep up her cheeks, she pulled away then hesitantly opened her eyes.

Shit.

He looked pissed. He
was
pissed. “You’re killing me,” he said through clenched teeth.

What should she say? Sorry?

She jerked away from him but couldn’t put distance between them. His hold on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. Then he shoved her against his hard chest. Gripping the back of her neck, he kissed her.

He kissed her hard and rough, delving his tongue into her mouth with such brutal force it daunted her. As he explored every inch of it, she got lost, so lost she couldn’t remember where she was, what she’d been doing. What she knew—Jace was kissing her like he’d been starving for her, and it felt fantastic. A kiss was all she wanted for months.

He didn’t stop, not for a long while.

Finally, he trailed his mouth down her cheek then neck. She gasped for breath. Sensations rippled through her, making her quiver. Her arms went around his neck, and she dug her hands in his hair, moaning. His hands reached under her shirt, grasped her skin on the side of her stomach tightly and pressed her against the length of him.

God, he was big, even over his jeans and her shorts she felt how big. It didn’t scare her.

She kissed his temple, then tasted his skin with her tongue. He made a deep, guttural sound in the back of his throat and shifted her until each one of her legs was at his sides, and she straddled him.

He tugged her shirt off her head the next moment. His eyes fixated on her chest like he wanted to devour her, and God help her, but she wanted him to.

He groaned. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” Then he captured her nipple in his mouth. He flicked his tongue against it, grasped it between his teeth, and sucked hard. It felt amazing, so amazing, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, a gasp escaping her lips.

He snaked his arm around her waist, then trailed it up her spine, stopping only when he gripped her neck and brought her face millimeters from his. His hooded, dark eyes snared hers. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” His voice dripped with emotion. He crushed his lips against hers, pressing her chest against his until her nipples hardened and puckered against every ridge of muscle lining it.

With his tongue tormenting her mouth, she gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. Having to break away from his lips, her eyes feasted his chest.

She’d been right. He was carved from stone. Bulging muscles lined every inch of him. His shoulders were big, wide, and strong, his pecs firm, the muscles on his back that protruded his sides clearly visible from where she sat on his lap. And his abs, Jesus, his abs were sculpted, even sitting up they were defined. Near his hips was the sexiest muscle on a male body, the pelvic muscle near the waist, shaped in a V. On his left side, under his arm, he had a large tattoo that stretched from under his arm to his waist. She couldn’t see it clearly, but she wanted to know what it was and what it meant.

He was perfect, so she couldn’t help trail her fingers down his chest, tracing the outline of his abs, and pelvic muscle. She pressed her lips against his chest and licked her way to his abs.

He dug his fingers in her hair and trailed them down until he gripped her under the arms and roughly hauled her up, her face inches from his, his expression ravished with lust. “Killing me.”

The breath rushed out of her. Oh, God. Was that what he meant every time he said those words?

He didn’t give her a chance to think about it for long. His hand pressed to her neck, pulling her lips against his again for another searing kiss that left her trembling. Running his hand up the inside of her thigh, he reached her core and rubbed her through the thin cotton of her shorts. She shuddered, moaning loudly.

His cock jerked under her. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

His words egging her on, her body pulsed. She panted, silently begging him to take her.

He threaded his fingers inside her jaw-string shorts, and then he pushed her underwear aside. His thumb stroked the length of her core. Her hips bucked. Her back arched, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Like it, Allie?”

She couldn’t talk, so she nodded.

Jace buried his face in her neck, sucking and licking the sensitive flesh. He rubbed her clit once then twice. Her hips bucked each time, grinding against his fingers.

He groaned, then his mouth was on hers again, teasing and taunting, and then he bit her bottom lip. “I’m going to make you come, and when you come, you’re gonna scream my name.”

She wanted that too, but she couldn’t speak. Again, all she managed to do was nod.

Suddenly, he stood. Her legs wrapped around him as he walked toward her room. In one swift movement, he released her legs. One arm around her waist holding her, he ripped her shorts and thong off, with the other. He then laid her on the bed, his lips glued to hers, his hand at her core.

Then he was gone. The heat of his lips still on her mouth, but he was gone, working his way down her body. Heat lingered on each spot his lips touched, neck, breasts, stomach, hips, but then it too—gone.

Gripping her hips, he roughly pulled her. Her heated flesh met his mouth. A startled gasp escaped her, pleasure pulsing through every pore. Her legs closed on his head instinctively. He reached under her legs, grasped her inner thighs, and pulled them apart. Holding her in place, he delved in, sucking, licking, devouring her.

He was skilled, beyond skilled. It was hard and rough, and had her screaming in seconds. She couldn’t see, couldn’t think but knew Jace gave her that intense pleasure, and she never wanted him to stop.

She dug her fingers into his hair and ground against his mouth. He lightly bit her clit, shoved his finger inside her, and then she was gone, arching her back and screaming his name.

When the high faded, he licked her one last time from top to bottom, savoring her taste. She gripped his hair, hauled him toward her until her lips met his. She tasted herself in his mouth and loved it, loved it so much she knew she’d be happy to taste it every day for the rest of her life.

She reached for his belt, unbuckled it, then drew away from his lips to whisper, “Take me.”

His dark eyes, locked on hers, softened so much it ignited a searing ache inside her—the same ache she read in his eyes. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew he couldn’t help it.

Then he did something else, something she never imagined. He trailed his fingers down her face in a soft, tender caress. He stayed there for endless moments. Then he got off her. Standing, he pulled a condom from his wallet, removed his jeans and boxers, and let her take her fill.

Beautiful, all of him. His shaft standing at attention, he wasn’t big. He was huge, so huge she didn’t know if he’d fit her.

She met his eyes. “I don’t know if it’ll fit.” Her cheeks flamed.

He smiled his amazing smile. “It’ll fit, baby. It’ll fit perfectly.”

Ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth, he rolled it on. Not a moment later, his body was poised over hers, his gaze holding hers hostage.

In that single moment of time, the panic set in. She wanted him. She’d wanted him since the moment she met him but knew nothing would ever come of them. Her brother warned her about bikers, and still, she couldn’t find the strength to say no. As reckless as it was, even if just for one night, she wanted him.

But he hesitated, so she said, “It’s okay. I know it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t have to warn me.”

His eyes darkened, the same ache shining through when he whispered, “It means something to me, Allie.”

He said it so tenderly, her heart tightened. Hopelessly and maybe foolishly, she believed him.

His lips claimed her. Soft and thoroughly, he kissed her. One hand buried in her hair, the other wrapped around his shaft. The kiss intensified. He pushed himself against her core, filling her slowly until completely immersed in her.

He was right.

He fit.

He fit her, perfectly.

Chapter Eighteen

Hovering over her, his eyes locked on hers, his dick buried in her tightness, he fucking knew he’d been right. He’d been so right about her, about everything about her.

From one look, he’d known, and the knowledge of it ravished him because he’d never have her fully, completely.

For her, this was one night.

For him, it was forever.

He knew, like he knew from one look he’d never meet a woman who compared. He’d never forget either. This moment would be seared in his mind for the rest of his life.

He knew it, felt it. So he knew he should stop, knew he shouldn’t let himself feel any more of it, knowing he’d never be able to fuck a tap to blow off steam. She’d damaged him for good, soiling every other woman on the face of the earth, but he didn’t care. If he got a piece of her, one night of feeling this, he would take it.

With her lying pliant and willing under him, he pulled out, then thrust into her slowly, allowing her to grow accustomed to the feel of him. Her walls clenching him, she moaned the sweetest moan. The entire time, her beautiful, color-changing eyes never left his. He let himself believe it was because she wanted to memorize him above her, inside, stretching, and owning her. He let himself believe it because he wanted that, too.

She wrapped her trembling legs around his waist, pressing her heels against his lower back pushing herself into him. One hand buried in his hair, and the other wrapped around his shoulders.

He slammed his lips against hers, delving into her mouth in a frenzy, then thrust into her again, and she moaned in his mouth.

He continued his pace, soft, slow, and deep. It took all the restraint he had to make love to her, but he did it. He wanted to give her what she deserved, and she deserved to be loved.

To him, it didn’t matter. Even if he fucked her senseless, showing her what she’d be missing from that day forward, it’d always mean more than a casual fuck.

“Harder, Jace,” she whispered against his lips.

He drew away to stare into her eyes. Then he gave her what she wanted, hard and fast.

Totally worth it. With each pound, her arms and legs tightened like a vise grip around him, like she’d never let go, moaning and whimpering.