Stolen: Hell's Overlords MC (29 page)

He pauses. I’m pressed against the door. His biceps are bordering me on either side like guardrails. The broad muscles of his chest are firm against the palms of my hands. He is a tank, a granite mountain. No one is moving him anywhere he does not want to go. And those eyes, how could anyone defy them? I can’t. I don’t see how it’s possible.

“I never will,” he says.

I believe him.

I lean back in to savor his taste and the length of his tongue wrestling with mine. My hands move up to cup either side of his face, stroking the shadow of his three-day beard. As I do, he spins around, takes two lunging steps to cross the room, and throws me on my back on the bed. He collapses on top of me, kissing furiously.

When he leans up and surveys me from above, I don’t hesitate to rip his shirt over his head. The white tee comes off easily, revealing a body chiseled from stone. I can see the plateau of each solid ab muscle, run through with spider-webbing ink where his tattoos stretch across his torso. My hands reach out to trace the contour of each inked design. A winged skull winks from the plane of his shoulder.
Inked Angels
is scrawled across a banner below it. I wonder what it means. The
Inked
part is pretty self-explanatory. But if Vince is an angel, he’s the strangest one I’ve ever heard of. Nowhere in the Bible does it say anything about a man with a glorious body who saves you from near-rape and then spirits you away to his bed via motorcycle. They might need to add some new chapters if that’s the case.

Vince pops the button of my jeans with an easy twist of his fingers. I wriggle my hips to help him pull the pants off of me, leaving me clad only in panties and the thin tank top I wore to work. He tosses the jeans to the floor, then leans down below my legs. Placing the breadth of his tongue on the lowest region of my inner thigh, he begins to lick up. I watch his face as he slides his tongue up, biting and suckling as he moves towards my molten core.

His hands tease up the lower edge of my shirt as he slides closer and closer. His tongue leaves a trail of wet heat wherever it goes, scything a meandering path from knee to the crease where my leg meets my hip. He takes his time, goes slowly, makes me wait. Every second passing feels like another point of pressure jabbing underneath my skin. The slower he goes, the more powerful it is, building inside me like a volcano that’s been dormant for too long and is dying for the right prompting to explode.

He pushes my shirt over my breasts, exposing them to the warm air of the room. I’m not wearing a bra, so when he palms each one in his hands, I draw a sharp intake of air. It’s been over two years since a man touched me. I haven’t had sex since Carlos left. Try as I might to keep myself satisfied, there’s no substitute for the raw heat of the taking that is about to occur. I long to be owned, to be teased and licked and fucked into ecstasy by a man with muscles like coiled snakes and a tongue that flickers everywhere my own cannot reach.

Luckily, I think the wait is over.

Vince thrusts aside the seam of my underwear and inserts his mouth in its place. He bathes my mound in a warm, sloppy kiss, his saliva mingling with my brimming juices. I shove my head back into the pillows as an uncontrollable moan tears between my lips.

“Oh, Vince,” I mutter. He looks up at me at the same time that he encircles my clit with the tip of his tongue and winds a playful circle around it, close enough to torment but too far to push me over the edge just yet. He knows it, too, how he is torturing me so blissfully. His eyes sparkle mischievously. 

“Not yet,” he says from where he is perched between my legs. “I’ll tell you when it’s time.” He slips a finger underneath the edge of each side of my panties and slides them down my bare legs, leaving me moist and open before him. I wrench my shirt over my head and toss it aside, then fall back down. My knees collapse to either side.

It’s almost pitiful, how quickly I’m throwing myself at him. But the fire racing through every nerve ending, the pressure mounting in the core of every muscle, will not be denied. The only relief is to moan and hope that Vince lets me finish soon, before I shatter like glass.

I do just that, moaning loudly as he gently takes my clit into his mouth and adds a probing finger into my wet cunt. His finger slips easily into me, gesturing and twisting within, before he extracts it. The force of his licking on my throbbing button is steady and calm, a swishing ebb and flow like waves on the beach.

He adds a second finger. I wince at first, but quickly my body expands to absorb him. The increased tightness spreads his stimulation further within me, washing over each millimeter of my tunnel. I feel like a piano, spread open in front of him, and he’s playing every key with a perfect, deft touch.

The tempo of his licking increases. Round and round goes his tongue; in and out go his fingers. His free hand is squeezing my hip, anchoring me down to the bed as I begin to writhe underneath him. My breath is coming in sharp, short gasps, each more cloying than the last. It’s like my body is shutting down to focus on one thing and one thing only: coming as hard as it possibly can with Vince licking my pussy towards climax.

My legs jitter with the swelling pressure. I’m almost there, edging back and forth in mini-waves. Everything clenches tighter and tighter. Vince licks, fingers, suckles, and pins me down all at once. For one moment, everything is squeezed to its maximum and the involuntary shaking pauses. Then I explode, like water from a geyser, tumbling over into a tumultuous sequence of vibrations and spasms while I’m rocked from head to toe by a powerfully surging orgasm.

When it finally calms down and I open my eyes again, it takes a moment to focus and regain my bearings. I look down at Vince. He looks back to me, his mouth slick with my juices, a feral intensity scrawled across his features. I know how he feels—I want more, too.

I pull him towards me and he pounces like a jungle cat, catching himself just before his bulk crushes me. I scrabble to unbutton his jeans and shove them partway down his hips, far enough to free his manhood from the fabric. I unspool my tongue down his throat in a wide-open kiss while I simultaneously use two hands to encircle his girth and begin pumping him slowly to hardness.

My hands are hardly big enough to handle his long, thick cock. It takes the full reach of my fingers to wrap all the way around him. The head of it is glistening with a jeweled drop of pre-cum, like a salivating animal ready for its meal. Between my own legs, wetness glimmers in like kind.

Vince grabs one thigh in each hand and pulls me towards him. I let him position my hips, slanting upwards towards his. My pussy is inches away from the cock held between my fingers. My hair is splayed out across the pillows, dark and mussed. The low glare of the lamp on the bedside table flits across Vince’s face, casting long shadows that only highlight the glow of his eyes.

I lower his dick to slant down towards my opening. Rubbing myself gingerly against his tip, I see a pained moan ripple from his mouth. Alarmed, I stop.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

He looks down at me. “I don’t care if this building was about to burn down. As long as you’re doing that, then there’s not a single thing wrong in the whole goddamn world.”

Vince arches over hungrily to kiss me at the same time that he takes control of his member back from my grasp. He lines himself up with my entrance, but pauses just before sliding in. He breaks the kiss back and presses his forehead against mine. Our eyelashes are close enough to touch. All I can see is a whole ocean’s worth of green, churning with heat and need.

“I want to look you in the eyes the first time we fuck,” he says. “So I can watch you become mine.” Then he leans his hips forward and fills me.

I clamp my teeth on Vince’s shoulder to stop from crying out. He’s so thick, so deep inside me. There’s a flash of pain as he pushes all the way in, until our hips collide and he can go no further. I’ve never been filled so fully, not even close. My walls are stretching, yearning to accommodate him. But as I settle down and catch my breath, the pain is replaced by a euphoria. This is how it is supposed to be. This is what it feels like to meet your match.

Vince begins to stroke in and out of me, long and slow. His angle slides past my clit on every downstroke, so that the twin sensations of our joint motion fill me. Light, rippling murmurs move out from my clit, while a deeper growling “Yes” emanates from deep inside my cunt where his cock is sheathed. He keeps his eyes open and locked on mine. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I cling to his neck with both hands and whimper softly as he starts to pound harder. My tits are bouncing up and down on my chest with the strength of his thrusting. I’m wet enough to pour juice across the sheets, gaping enough to take his length further with each ram forward. He retreats, withdraws, then slams into me endlessly. The crunch of our flesh colliding might have been painful if it didn’t feel so damn good. His heat surrounds me, lurid with his scent.

“Don’t stop,” I’m gasping without even realizing it, before even that simple sentence dissolves into a train of moans and “Ohs” that peter out without ever finding the words to express what I’m feeling. It’s a cacophony of sweetly climbing pressure and brutal, grinding shockwaves that are somehow one and the same. I feel like I’m bursting and collapsing inward at the same time. Nothing makes sense except for this to keep going, for as long as it takes until he brings me to release.

Vince rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him without ever falling from inside me. I plant a knee on either side of his waist and begin to bob up and down, rooting myself to his chest with my palms. I toss my head back and push my breasts forward. He seizes each in his hand and twists my nipples gently like radio dials, just enough to add a new sizzling intensity to the desperation with which I’m flailing on top of him. I’m sweating, rivulets of perspiration trickling down my skin to meet his. My muscles are sore but there’s no stopping. I don’t care if I won’t be able to walk for days—there’s no way I’m stopping this now.

We’re nearing a breaking point. It’s obvious in every inch of my body, from my sweat-slicked skin to the desperate force clamoring under my skin for some kind of relief. It’s obvious in Vince, too. I can see in his gritting jaw and focused eyes that he is holding back his own climax, waiting until the last possible second, trying to wring every possible moment of pleasure out of this. Who knows how long we have or what might happen next. All that matters right now is this—him, me, the edge we’re approaching together with rapid acceleration.

Vince sits up. His legs hang over the edge of the bed, while mine are wrapped around his torso. I’m speared on his member. He lifts me up and down with a strong grip on my ass. Gravity brings me closer to him on each descent. I steal a sloppy kiss from his parted lips. I need his touch everywhere at once. I want his teeth on my neck and his tongue on my breasts. It’s insatiable. This hunger is foreign to me. I’m scared by its power, but it is as addictive as it is dangerous. I’m too close to turn back now.

I’m so close that there’s no more room for thought. My inner monologue is one long moan, mirroring the wrenching gasps coming from my dangling mouth.

Vince growls, “I’m so close to coming, baby.”

I can’t decide whether that’s a warning or a word of encouragement, and I’m not about to take the time to figure it out. The only thing I can focus on is the edge. I see it looming in front of me, can feel it coming like a runaway train. Vince picks me up, drops me, picks me up, drops me, and then I’m there, I lose it, I unleash.

My body tightens down around Vince’s throbbing cock, locking him inside me. Thighs and arms clench where I am wrapped around him as spastic waves rock me from head to toe in long, tidal flows. The second my pussy compresses on his length, I feel him, too, explode. Spurts of white-hot cum paint my insides as we freeze, as immovable as mountains, going nowhere until the storms have long since passed us by.

My chin falls over Vince’s shoulder. My arms droop limply. He holds onto me still, not even withdrawing from my slit, but instead staying right as we were when we came. I can feel his cum begin to dribble down my inner thighs in sticky streaks. Our breath is long, ragged, exhausted, but I can hear his heartbeat in his throat, pounding feverishly, just like mine.

I lean back and look at him. “Who are you?” I say. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

His eyes flare. “I’m the man saving your life.”

“Is that what you call this?” I gesture towards the messy sheets and strewn pillows, indicating the fiery lovemaking that had just taken place.