And there I’d waited … growing wet with anticipation and breathless with desire.
Every rustle I made, the new jacket sent another wave of need through my blood. The silver thread glittered, reminding me time and time again who I loved.
The small jacket fit me perfectly.
Riding on the back of Arthur’s bike from the gathering had filled me with a mix of joy and justice. Any motorist who saw us growling past knew I wasn’t one of them—I wasn’t from a normal nine-to-five society—I was a member of something bigger. A sister, wife, and friend to people who understood the meaning of togetherness.
The skull and abacas logo teased fear into some people, believing we were lawlessness and terror. What they didn’t see was an extended family, and I’d just been handed the keys to their home.
I sighed, staring at the ceiling.
How much longer will he be?
My ears strained for any noise of his boots on the stairs. My instincts fanned out for any prickle that he might be close.
I was tempted to go down to find him—it’d been forty minutes, not the ten that he promised—but something inside me hesitated.
I didn’t want to interfere.
Losing the trade this afternoon did something to him I couldn’t understand. And unfortunately, this was one time I couldn’t help. He had to fix it. He had to come to terms with whatever injury shadowed him. All I could do was be there for him when he healed.
The house breathed around me, hugging me with its white painted walls. So many memories already existed in this place: the trials of convincing Arthur I was the girl from his past. The fear of being sold. The blankness of amnesia.
The echoes of everything that’d passed hovered in the air, twisting and twining, waiting for new memories to play with.
And tonight I plan on making new memories.
I planned on doing something for Arthur that had never been done before.
The bedroom door suddenly swung wide.
Arthur appeared.
His boots were off, his feet bare as he moved silently over the carpet. His eyes feasted on my nakedness and I deliberately wriggled, letting the front of my jacket gape, hinting at nipples and flesh. “I missed you.”
His lips quirked as his eyes blackened. “I can see that.”
Unashamedly, I spread my legs a little. “I missed you a lot, in fact.” The color of my tattooed leg looked almost garish against the white of his bedspread. I was a splash of color on a simple cloud.
He didn’t reply, only stared. Taking his time, he drank in my scars and ink—once again making me feel as if I was the most unique woman in the world.
“You were gone awhile.” My skin warmed beneath his gaze. “Are you okay?” I flinched as the question crashed between us. I didn’t want to keep hounding him, but I couldn’t stop my worry.
I’d long since given up trying to forecast the future—guessing what would occur tomorrow, next week, or next year. Life had taught me that things could go disastrously wrong within moments. But I also wasn’t prepared for chaos to win. There had to be structure and Arthur’s head injury was ruining that structure.
He’ll beat it.
We just had to be strong enough to weather all triumphs or tragedies that rested on our timeline.
Arthur ran a hand through his dark hair, pulling it back from his face. “I’m … better.” He smiled gently. “I made back the money I lost this morning. So yeah … I’m okay.” His voice was achingly soft. If I didn’t know him, I would believe his words. But I did know him, and his tone said he was still afraid.
Sitting upright, I scooted onto my knees. “Is there anything I can do?”
His eyes blazed with love. “You’re doing it. Just by being you.” His hands went to his belt. “I couldn’t ask for more.” His gaze latched on to my inner thighs as his fingers pulled the buckle aside, then unhooked the button of his fly.
I stopped breathing.
An electric storm brewed around us, tingling my scalp.
Drifting from my knees to all fours, I prowled to the bottom of the bed and stopped before him. Beckoning him closer with my finger, Arthur obeyed, coming to stand within touching distance.
We didn’t speak as I reached out and stilled his hand.
His skin scorched mine.
He sucked in a breath, turning to stone. “Cleo …”
Shaking my head, I pushed aside his grip.
His large chest rose as his arms dropped woodenly by his sides.
Silence wrapped around us like a blanket as I sat higher on my knees and ran my hands over the planes of his chest. The warm cotton of his T-shirt guided me under his cut, muscles bunching beneath my fingertips.
We match.
My heart skipped.
We wore the same emblem. A perfect mirror image. I was marked forever with his protection and commitment.
Never looking away from him, I bit my lip and pushed the heavy leather off his shoulders. The dense material slipped down his arms, catching on his large hands.
His lips parted as I tugged his hand forward, carefully freeing him so the cut fell to the floor.
We flinched at the soft slap of leather on carpet—the noise seeming to reach out and stroke us with hungry greed. Our breathing ratcheted as I followed the contours of his chest. Hills, valleys, indents, and ridges. Every inch of him impenetrable.
My mouth watered, intoxicated on his perfection. His five o’clock shadow, the long length of his hair, the way his eyes glimmered with acuity.
I never wanted anyone else. For as long as I lived.
Working my way downward, I sketched his stomach, loving the way he gasped and shivered.
He held his breath as my fingertips found his zipper. Ever so slowly, I tugged it south, never looking away from his eyes.
His trousers flared open—a welcome invitation. Sliding my hands around his narrow hips, I pushed the heavy denim down his legs.
His hands fisted by his side.
The urgency and need in his eyes crackled the air, but he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t try to touch me. Somehow, we wordlessly agreed that I was in charge. That I was in control of our tempo.
I wanted to take from him.
I wanted to give him something he’d never had before.
A secretive smile tugged my lips as I captured the hard length of his erection through his boxer briefs.
My breasts swelled, my nipples pebbling even harder. My knees wobbled as I ran my thumb over his crown, drawing a low groan from his chest. The sharp Vs of his stomach tightened as he gave himself into my power.
“God, Cleo …” His eyes snapped closed as I continued to press against the highly sensitive tip. Growing bold, I squeezed his girth. I wasn’t gentle. I was demanding.
My heart liquefied at the gift of touching him. “I want you, Art. So much.”
“You have me.” His voice was gravel.
“Don’t move.”
His eyes connected with mine, a slight question forming in their depths. But then … he nodded.
He sighed, relinquishing total control. The weight on his shoulders disintegrated; his worries fading by letting me rule.
I was a goddess.
I was a witch.
The thrill at having his utmost trust feathered through my soul.
He didn’t twitch or smile as I tugged his boxer briefs from hips to knees. His nostrils flared as I left the tight material around his legs, imprisoning him where he stood—cutting his tattooed mermaid in half.
My heart beat faster at his perfect length and thickness. I couldn’t ask for a better lover. Even when I was fourteen, I’d wanted him. Wanted to know what existed in his trousers. Wanted to touch him. Lick him.
He wouldn’t let me then. But he will now.
Rising up on my knees again, I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and raised it over his head.
With half a smile, which was so damn sexy it hurt my heart, he ducked and raised his arms. With a sharp tug, the T-shir
t flew over his head. I dropped it to the abandoned clothing on the floor. They were like leaves from a giant tree, shedding for another season.
The moment Arthur was naked, a delicious sparkle effervesced through me. He was chocolate and Christmas all at once.
He’s mine.
Having him so exposed, while I wore his jacket claiming me as his property, made me feel powerful—invincible. I wasn’t owned—I owned him.
I loved the aphrodisiac … the knowledge he would let me do anything.
His hand captured my cheek, his thumb rubbing over my skin.
My fingers tightened around his cock, tugging him closer to the bed.
He groaned, his eyes fluttering to half-mast. “Christ, you undo me, Buttercup.” His hand fell away and I licked my lips at the thought of bringing this warrior, this incredible biker, to his knees.
My new jacket creaked as I shuffled closer, never letting go of his erection.
I grew wet.
I grew eager.
Stroking him, I ran my thumb once again along the tip.
The muscles in his neck stood out as he hissed between his teeth. His eyes remained closed while every inch of his powerful body stiffened.
He knew as well as I did what I was about to do. His hands fisted by his sides, humming with impatience and joy. We hovered on the knife edge, waiting to explode.
With one hand squeezing his length, I cupped his balls with the other.
“Shit,” he breathed as I tugged the soft skin and trailed my touch upward to press against the erogenous zone behind his cock.
He staggered. “Fuck me. What are you doing to me, Cleo?”
“Giving you pleasure.”
I wanted to draw the moment out but my legs trembled and my mouth ached to fit around him. With the way he shuddered, I doubted he had the self-control to let me postpone much longer.
I want to taste.
Taking a deep breath, I stopped torturing and gave him something he’d never let any other woman do.
I’m taking this from you.
I’m the only one who will ever lick you this way.
I felt as if I cast a spell, binding him to me forever.
Leaning forward, I breathed on him, letting the heat cascade over sensitive flesh.
He froze, gulping in air.
“I want to suck you,” I whispered.
“Fuck …,” he groaned.
Tugging his balls, I positioned my head above him, and with the flat of my tongue, licked him for the very first time.
My heart banged against my ribs.
“Oh, shit.” His hands shot upward to fist in my hair.
He was sweet, musky. Hot. So hot.
His thighs trembled; he dug his toes into the carpet. His scent instantly wrapped around my soul and squeezed.
I licked him again, relishing in the way he quaked and shivered.
“Fuck.” He shuddered again, his hands yanking on my hair. The mermaid with her red hair and green tail danced on his thigh as he braced himself. Her strands wrapped around his balls, inking the end of his shaft as I opened my mouth and guided him inside.
A grunt—half pleasure, half pain but complete submission—wrenched from his lungs.
I smiled, stretching my lips around his thickness as I licked the underside, sucking his length with deep pulls.
I didn’t move quickly or slowly. I didn’t take him hesitantly or boldly. I took him peacefully, reverently—both of us adjusting to the power switch of me taking, not submitting.
His body never stopped vibrating. He growled and cursed, littering the air with passion. Slowly, his tension bloomed into need as he grew accustomed to the foreign sensation of being sucked.
My jaw ached as I sheathed my teeth and sank over him as far as I could go. My lips wrapped around him, claiming him as my own.
“Fuck!” His hands wrapped harder in my hair. He didn’t try to control me, but his hold was firm, fisting the long strands into a ponytail, steadying himself as if he’d topple at any moment.
I was hot.
I was cold.
I was wet.
So wet.
Unconsciously, I fell into a rhythm. My right hand moved up and down, spreading the slipperiness of my saliva.
Keeping the sharpness of my teeth away from his delicate flesh, I dragged my tongue up the silky steel and down again.
Up, down.
Lick, swirl.
“Fuck, you’re incredible.” Arthur’s hips moved to match my pace, thrusting in time, but never taking more than I offered.
His fingers slowly started to guide me, forgetting everything but seeking the final reward. Pinpricks of pain danced over my scalp, sending washes of desire through my system.
I never knew I could become so wet by doing something singular for him.
He made me feel adored.
Worshipped.
Indebted to my gift.
Withdrawing him from my mouth, I swirled my tongue around his tip before swallowing him in one swift sweep.
“Ah, shit.” He jerked, bending over me. “Goddammit, Buttercup.” His voice was unrecognizable—brittle and strained.
With a racing heart, I kept going. I dedicated myself to giving him the best blow job I could.
His balls tightened, tensing against his body. Ripples of pleasure worked along his shaft beneath my tongue.
He was close.
Switching from languishing to quick, I sucked harder, wanting to steal every control from him.
He cried out as his hands moved with my head, bobbing up and down on his cock.
His hips twitched faster.
His breathing came quicker.
His body unraveled with every second.
Together, we found a perfect waltz. Every swallow down his length he thrust forward, using my mouth but giving so much in return. He gave me his soul. His undoing. His vulnerability.
Then, he froze. “Fuck, I’m going—”
I swirled my tongue faster, squeezing him harder in answer.
I want you to come.
I wanted to taste everything he could give me. Maybe then he would be mine for eternity.
His fingers yanked on my hair with urgency. “Stop. Fuck, I’m going to—”
I moaned low in my throat. The vibrations of my voice amplified the slick heat and wetness of my mouth and Arthur lost the battle.
“Shit!”
He grabbed my head, his strong fingers digging deliciously into my scalp as he roared and gave himself over to me.
I bobbed faster, unsheathing my teeth to scrape the sharpness down his satiny length, highlighting his pleasure with a threat of pain.
He combusted.
His balls throbbed in my touch; a wave of pressure escaped the base of him, rippling past my tongue and shooting into my mouth.
The first splash caught me by surprise. Hot. Thick.
Squeezing my eyes, I kept sucking, kept stroking.
His hips rocked faster.
I moaned again as another salty spray coated the back of my throat.
Another wave.
I kept licking, kept taking until he shuddered in my hold.
His body crumbled, losing its strength and giving in to gravity. With an endless sigh, he ran his fingers from my hair to my chin, prying me upward and forcing me to let go of his cock.
Raising my head, I smiled and swallowed the remainder of his orgasm.
The glow in his eyes utterly undid me.
I got chills at the fathomless affection and awe blazing on his face.
Crashing to his knees, he captured my cheeks and kissed my lips with utmost humbleness. “Thank you,” he panted between kisses. “Thank you for exploding my world and showing me heaven does exist.”
I laughed softly, pulling away from his mouth. “I’m so glad I was the one to show you.”
He shook his head, his hands never leaving my face. “There’s never been anyone like you. Never. You owned me since I was a boy. And you completely consu
me me now that I’m a man.”
Tears pricked my eyes as he struggled to hide the sudden glassiness of his own. “Cleo …” His voice broke. “Fuck, Cleo. I love you so goddamn much.”
He launched himself at me. Syncing our heartbeats, plaiting our minds—ensuring we were soldered together.
Wrapping long arms like a cage around me, he squashed me against his chest. The rapid thump-thump of his heart echoed from his body into mine and I felt something I’d never felt before.
A link.
An intrinsic otherworldly link that bound me not to this world but another.
Our world.
Our home.
Our harmony.
I woke to the rays of golden sunshine and the gentlest stroking of my lover.
My mind was soft and floaty. My body warm and toasty.
It was the best wake-up call I’d ever had.
Turning to face Arthur, I smiled. My vision cast everything in a sleepy haze. “Morning.”
His smile lit up my world. The strain around his eyes remained and the tightness around his shoulders hinted he still suffered, but for now … he looked radiant.
“Morning.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Did you know you moaned in your sleep?”
Rolling onto my back, I threw my arms over my head and stretched. “I did?”
He nodded, his eyes glued on to my bare breasts from the sheet sliding down. “You did. It was long and loud and …” Without another word, he bent over me and sucked my nipple into his mouth.
I gasped at the sudden shock of heat and wetness.
“I think you were dreaming of me. Am I right?” His mouth trailed over the swell of my breast, licking my other nipple as if I were a melting ice cream and he needed every drop.
My mind emptied apart from the intoxicating lick. “I … I don’t know.” Slinking my fingers into his hair, I murmured, “I might need some coaxing to remember.”
He chuckled, cupping my breast and squeezing with a possessive tantalizing hold. “Coaxing? Are you certain?”
I arched into his touch, luxuriating in the way my body warmed. “Very certain. My memory is terrible.”
He flinched, his eyes glancing up my torso to connect with mine. “You can say that again.”