Ravage: Lightning Bolts MC (25 page)

I laced my fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer, almost jerking him to me, and he laughed though our mouths were still joined. I couldn’t help it—I needed him so desperately. It was all still so new to me, and I loved him and needed to be with him in the worst way.

He slowed me down, always knowing better, stroking my cheek with his fingers. Fingers which then trailed down my throat. I tilted my head back, eager for more. His touch was like fire. His fingers went lower, down my chest, then over my breasts through the lacy cups of my bra. My nipples stood out beneath them, and he flicked them gently before moving on.

Then he was at my waist, my stomach, around to my hips. He wrapped his fingers around the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down. I lifted my hips to help before settling back against the bed with a sigh. Still he kissed me, slowly, sensuously, taking his time, building my passion inch by inch. We were in no hurry, I realized. We had nowhere else to be. He could go slow, and it would be that much better when I finally exploded. When his tongue touched my lips, flicking over them before dipping into my mouth, I moaned uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, his hand danced over my legs, then across from hip to hip, just over the cotton panties I wore but never getting close to the apex of my thighs. I broke the kiss, moaning, gasping, begging for him to touch me. I burned, ached. It hurt, I needed him so much. He nudged my legs apart with his hand and I gladly opened them.

He rubbed his hand over my mound, and I rolled my hips in circles to meet his touch. I couldn’t help grinding against him, needing more and more, wanting to fall over the edge into oblivion. I closed my eyes, rolling my head to the side, as he nibbled my throat.

“Yes…yes…more, please…” I whispered. I wasn’t used to speaking up, asking for what I needed, but I was so desperate I would have done anything. All the tension of the past two days built up inside me and I needed to release it.

He stopped rubbing, and I whimpered, jerking my hips up to catch any pressure I could get from his hand. Instead of giving me more, he pulled my panties off with one smooth move. I gasped and moaned in relief.

He picked up one of my legs and put it over his shoulder, giving him access to all of me. He ran his hand through my cleft, over and over, dipping into my folds. Teasing me. He wouldn’t go near my button, and I ached for him to.

“Please,” I whimpered, then gasped as he ran a finger around my opening. I arched my back until I was nearly off the bed, sensation tearing through me. He slid that finger inside, then a second one, slowly pumping them in and out of me as he kissed his way down my body. I was lost by then, totally overwhelmed, moving my body against him. I lost the ability to think. I could only feel, and I wanted more.

His thumb brushed against me, the little bundle of nerves that throbbed and burned between my legs. I cried out in satisfaction as he stroked it while his fingers still worked in and out of my thigh sheath.

I urged him on, more and more, working my hips in circles. I felt my muscles tightening around him as my orgasm approached, and I screamed when it finally slammed into me with the force of a freight train. I thought I might break into a million pieces.

He held me as the pleasure worked its way through my body, leaving me breathless and trembling in its wake. I whimpered, curling up next to him, needing him to love me through it until I finished. I felt so open, so vulnerable. I’d never felt that way before, even after the first time we were together.

“Are you all right?” He kissed my forehead.

“Better than all right.” I replied, meeting his mouth with my own. His hardness pressed against me, telling me how much he needed me. As much as I needed him still. I would never get enough. I touched him there, sliding my hand between us. He was hot and rigid. He groaned when I slipped my hand into the slit in the shorts, touching his hot smoothness. I stroked him as we kissed, listening as his breathing came harder and faster. He met my strokes with his hips, thrusting into my hand.

“I want you,” he growled, his voice ragged.

“Yes.” It was all I could say, all I needed to say.

I opened my legs wider to him, holding out my arms. Wanting him where he belonged. With me, inside me, while I held him so close. I knew what it was like to feel whole when we were together like that. When he settled in and positioned himself against me, I kept my eyes wide open and trained on his face. I watched as his expression changed when he broke the plane of my body and entered me. I saw my bliss reflected there.

He started slow, and I let him control the pace. It was enough for me to hold him and love him, touching him everywhere my hands could reach. I loved his body, and worshipped it once I knew it was all mine.

He balanced on his uninjured arm while he roamed my body with the other hand. He touched me just as I touched him—with a sense of wonder, and lust, and ownership. I gasped when he stroked my breast, ran his fingertips down my side, dug his fingers into my hip. He rode me gently, and I sensed he was barely holding himself back.

I pulled him to me for a kiss, then let my mouth roam him. He tasted like nothing I’d ever enjoyed before—sweet and salty at once—and I couldn’t get enough. I licked and sucked at him, biting gently until he groaned and gasped. I pulled him in for another kiss, and another, as he rocked us both closer to the height of pleasure.

“I love you,” he whispered, still moving back and forth inside me. “I love you.”

“I love you.” I held his head in my hands and kissed his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyelids, his chin. Then I focused on his mouth, and our tongues danced together to match the way our bodies did the same. I thought my heart might burst with joy.

I quickened, and he followed me. We moved faster, harder, my arms and legs moving over him, gripping him, touching every part of him. I jerked my hips up to meet him, plating my feet on the bed to give myself better leverage and thrusting upward. He moaned, going even faster to match my motions. My body sang as I got closer to climax, and the harder he moved, the closer I got.

“Yes! Yes! Oh, Eric!” I closed my eyes and threw back my head as the first shockwaves rushed over me, rolling over me like waves in the ocean, holding me under. Pleasure filled me, surrounded me. I trembled, holding him close. A few moments and he joined me, crying out against my neck as he exploded.

I could hardly believe it. He was mine, and I was his, and if I got my wish, we would be doing that together for the rest of our lives. I sure couldn’t imagine ever being with anybody else.

“I’m only running a little late,” Eric said. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

“All right,” I said. “Not much later than that, though. Dinner will only keep for so long.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out tonight? I mean, we can always put the food in the fridge, right? We’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Nah. I’d rather it just be you and me tonight.”

“But cooking dinner on your anniversary?”

“I told you it’s fine.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Now get off the phone and get on the road, Mr. Turner.”

“Fine, Mrs. Turner. Be there soon.”

I hung up, still smiling, and put the finishing touches on the chicken parmesan before sliding the fried cutlets into the oven to finish cooking in their tomato sauce and cheese. I slid the pasta from its box into the boiling water on the stove. Everything was going according to schedule.

It still felt strange sometimes, cooking dinner for my husband in my childhood home. It had been a year, and there were still times when I felt the need to pinch myself so I’d know it was all real. It had meant so much to me that Eric had agreed to live there, rather than living at his house or another house of our own. His was only a rental anyway, so it wasn’t as though he had to go through the hassle of selling it. Rather than selling my mother’s home, which in the months after her death in the hospice seemed impossible, he agreed that we should settle in and make it our own.

We had made it our own, too—well, I had. He still wasn’t much for interior decorating, and I knew he never would be. He was smart enough to acquiesce to my wishes, except when he strongly disagreed with something I wanted. At least I’d managed to get him to start picking up after himself. No more pizza boxes all over the house.

It was an adjustment for both of us, one we still worked on. All couples did, not just two people who came from such opposite worlds. We had a strong foundation of love to build on, which was a good start. Everything else was background noise as far as I was concerned.

It had taken me a little time to get used to the club. Not to the people in it—I liked them all and appreciated everything they’d done to rescue me from Gareth. They were all good people, like Eric, if a little rough around the edges. It was cute, actually, watching them try to control their language around me. They had enough respect for me and my husband to do that. After a year of marriage, I’d cooked more food for them than I could remember, and hosted them around my dining room tables countless times.

They were a family, and I was part of it. What a strange concept, but there was something to be said for that family structure. They all had my back, and I cared about all of them. They needed a good woman in their lives. I would be that woman by proxy until their old ladies came along.

An old lady. It made me laugh whenever I thought about my title. I was the old lady of the club’s president. The First Lady, as I called myself in my head. Bizarre. Women like me weren’t supposed to be involved with motorcycle clubs, but there I was, in the middle of it.

When Eric walked through the front door, I was just putting the finishing touches on our meal. “Just in time!” I called out, smiling as he walked into the kitchen. He still had a way about him, a certain way of looking at me that took my breath away. I knew one year wasn’t long to be married and that, God willing, we had a lot of years ahead of us. I hoped my heart still gave a little flutter after five, fifteen, twenty more years.

He presented me with a bouquet of red roses, which I ooh’d and ahh’d over before putting them in a vase and sitting them in the middle of the dining room table.

“How was your day, husband?” I set the food out on the table.

“Busy as usual, wife.” He stretched, sighing. “When I decided to take us one hundred percent legit, I didn’t know it was gonna take so much work.”

“But it’ll be worth it in the end, right?” I asked, sliding chicken onto my plate, topping it off with a pile of spaghetti.

“Of course, it will. I’ll just bitch and moan about it in the meantime.”

I laughed. No words could convey how relieved I was that the club was going legitimate. Legitimacy meant a lot stricter control of the books, though, and attention to detail the club hadn’t had to pay before. The IRS only needed to see that it looked like they were hiding something to start auditing, and there would be a lot of unreported income to answer for when that day came.

Still, financial concerns aside, it was a load off my mind. I could rest easy knowing my husband would come home at the end of the day. They still had late nights sometimes, still got caught up in negotiations that lasted into the morning. But that was all it was. It wasn’t shoot-outs and robberies and God only knew what else. When the phone rang, it was Eric, telling me he was coming home to me. It wasn’t the police or the hospital.

Ever since Gareth’s entire MC went down for underage sex trafficking, life had lightened up considerably. Eric was a lot more relaxed without his enemy hanging over his head, scheming against him. None of the Reign of Chaos would be out of prison in less than twenty-five years. We’d decide what to do about them when the time came.

“How was your day?” Eric asked.

“You know. Another day, another ton of work.” I was in my second semester of culinary school, and that day we’d reviewed different types of sauces. I was so relieved when Eric asked for simple chicken parmesan for our anniversary dinner, I could have cried. I might have lost my mind if I had to reduce another wine sauce…not like Eric was a wine sauce type of person.

“I talked to Rob at the office about an internship in the kitchen, and he seemed okay with it. He’ll need a little time to think it over, he said.” It would be an interesting change, working in the kitchen instead of behind the bar the way I used to, but at least the learning curve of the kitchen would be easier since I was already familiar with it.

“You need me to go over there, help him make up his mind a little quicker?” Eric’s eyes narrowed.

“Um, no. I think it would be best if you stayed out of it, though I love you for thinking about it.” I could just imagine my old boss wetting his pants when he saw my husband, the big bad biker, coming for him.

“You know,” I continued, my heart beating a little faster, “I might have to take a little time off once the internship’s over.”

“Really? What’s up?”

“Can you pour me some more water?” I asked, pointing to the pitcher by Eric’s hand.

“No wine tonight?” He tipped the pitcher, filling my glass. Somewhere in there, he figured it out. His eyes met mine, and his jaw nearly hit the table.

“Uh, that’s enough!” I laughed as water sloshed all over the table, and put the pitcher back down since my husband was all but catatonic. I had wanted to wait, to give him the news as a “gift” of sorts after dinner, but I’d been just about bursting ever since leaving the doctor’s office that morning.

“Are you saying…what I think you’re saying?” His voice was little louder than a whisper.

“I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?” I whispered back.

“I’m afraid to say it. I might jinx you or something.”

“You won’t.” I grinned and took his hands. “I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby.”

He stood, pulling me out of my chair along with him before wrapping me in a bear hug. “You’re sure?”

“Completely. The doctor says I’m three months along.”

“So much already?”

“I wanted to wait to be sure,” I said.

“And you didn’t tell me? All this time?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, and I wanted to be absolutely sure before I said anything.” I looked up into his face. “Are you glad?”

“Glad?” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I’m glad. That’s a word for it. I’m also fucking ecstatic.” He kissed me again and again, both of us laughing in between kisses, tears wetting my cheeks.

It didn’t take long for the kisses to heat up. After a year of marriage, and a year of living together prior to that, I never got tired of him or his body, his hands, his kisses. The smell and taste of him. He was a hunger in me that would never go away. I couldn’t satisfy my need for him no matter how many times I had him.

His hands ran down my back, cupping my butt. I groaned, moving my hips closer to him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, pulling away. “Is it all right?”

I chuckled, then cupped him in my hand. “I’m sure. Just, you know, take it easy on me.”

He grinned, and I led him by the hand up to the bedroom. As soon as we were there, we took off our clothes, never taking our eyes off each other. I knew my body would be changing soon, and I hoped he still looked at me then the way he looked at me in that moment. His eyes were full of lust and love, so much passion and want.

I met him beside the bed. The sight of his body still turned me on, and the knowledge that he was all mine was almost more than I could bear sometimes. He was mine. I’d hit the jackpot, for sure.

He took me in his arms and kissed me, so gently and tenderly. I closed my eyes and sank into the feeling of his hands on me, his arms around me, his lips on mine. I felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, and I knew my own heartbeat matched his. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his, needing the feeling of his skin against mine. I tingled from head to toe, almost buzzing with anticipation.

He stroked my butt again, making me gasp and groan. Heat sparked between my legs, turning to fire the longer he touched me and kissed me. I pulled away from him, throwing my head back. He ran his mouth down my throat. I clutched his shoulders, holding myself up when my knees went weak and threatened to go out from under me. I gasped when he nibbled my shoulder, then moved further down. He picked me up and lowered me onto the bed, lowering himself over me to worship my body with his mouth. He lingered on my belly, and I stroked his hair as he kissed me tenderly. He glanced up at me with a smile on his face, and I smiled back.

Then he moved lower. I closed my eyes, running my hands through Eric’s thick, long hair as he kissed his way down my thighs, then dipped his tongue between my lips. I sighed at the first touch on my button, then moaned his name when his tongue made slow, tight circles over it. I held him closer with my hands on the back of my head, my thighs on either side. He ran his hands all over my body, fondling my breasts, flicking my nipples as he flicked my button. I ground my hips against his mouth, wanting more pressure, begging for it. He pinched my nipples and I arched my back, crying out.

I felt the tension grow tighter, tighter in my core. I felt the climax approach, and I welcomed it.

“Yes!” I cried out again and again as my muscles clenched and I threw my head back with a shuddering cry.

He wasted no time—I knew he wanted me. He always loved hearing me come, knowing that he was the one who made me come. I let him turn me over onto my hands and knees. He positioned himself against me without a word and slid inside.

Yes. This was what I needed, him inside me forever. Whatever was happening—whatever we were going through together or any growing pains we felt as a couple—this made everything right again somehow. Nothing else mattered when we were together like this, when he was inside me.

He took my hips in his hands, working me up and down his rigid length. I worked against him, moving with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The angle, the depth were all perfect, hitting me in just the right spot. I cried out, feeling the tension build again, so soon after the first time.

“Yes!” I screamed, just once, throwing back my head and tensing all over, then shuddering. He stayed still, and I knew it was because he didn’t want to give over to the pulsing of my muscles around his length. He waited until I loosened and slid out, rolling me onto my back.