Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

But now, she could think of nothing else but the man between her legs. Never had she been kissed like this. Like the man nipping her lips, delving his tongue into her mouth, and stealing her air couldn’t get enough of her. Like he loved her taste, her moans, the feel of her lips on his.

The longer they kissed, the needier she felt. An ache developed between her legs, intensifying with each sweep of his tongue. Finally, she gave into the urge to slide her hands into his curls and grip the damp strands. She’d never been able to do this with a man, and she freakin’ loved the way his hair felt between her fingers.

Curly groaned a long, tortured sound.

Emboldened, Brooke wrapped her ankles around his back and jerked herself forward against his body. Her stomach met the very hard length of his erection. She gasped into his mouth, making him chuckle.

Despite the urgency of his kiss, she hadn’t realized he’d been as turned on as she was. Guess she needed the firsthand evidence.

Curly rested his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. “Christ, you can kiss.”

The little compliment was like a straight shot of confidence to her soul.

“Pretty sure I’ve got nothing on you.” Oh, God, her hands were still clutching his hair as though she’d fly away if she let go. How embarrassing. “Uh, sorry,” she said with an awkward chuckle as she released him.

“Don’t be. Fucking love your hands in my hair,” he said, drawing back enough to see her face. “Why do you think I keep it long?”

“Well, I love your hair. It’s so soft.” The memory of her fantasies about his hair had heat rushing to her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“Huh?”

“Your face got all red. You having naughty thoughts, Brooke?”

If there was enough room between their bodies, she’d have slid down into the water and never come up. Instead, she squeaked out a “No.”

Curly chuckled. The husky sound only made her want him more. “Liar. Tell me.”

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

“What happened to the ballsy chick who was ready to take down Prick?”

“That’s different,” she whispered. “This is so…personal.” Intimate. Embarrassing. Once she’d confessed a fantasy to Evan and he’d laughed until she excused herself, went into the bathroom, and cried on the toilet, dying a little from the shame.

“All right.” He ran his hands up and down her thighs. “Hmmm, you got all red when you mentioned liking my hair so I’m guessing it had something to do with that. You imagining something dirty involving my hair?”

She was going to die.

“Maybe pulling it while I’m fucking you?”

She gasped.

“Because I gotta tell you,” he continued in that growly voice, “I love the fuck outta that idea.”

The warmth of embarrassment had nothing on the incendiary heat of his sex-voice.

“T-that wasn’t it.”

“How about this? You tell me what you were thinking, and I’ll give it to you.”

I’m not going to survive.

Brooke sucked in a breath. “But—”

“Whatever it is. Nothing is off fucking limits. I’ll make it happen.”

Shit, she was going to tell him. She’d lost her mind. He made her lose her mind. Made her act in a way she’d never acted before, and part of her loved it. Because he didn’t look at her with judgment or disgust. He didn’t criticize her or fuel her insecurities. He seemed to genuinely want to make her fantasy a reality.

Whatever it is.

“I-you were, uh, sucking on me,” she whispered, staring at his chest to avoid his crystal eyes.

He cupped and lifted her chin, taking away her ability to hide. “Your tits?” His gaze had darkened until it matched the night sky.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He groaned. “I’d kill to get my mouth on those babies. What else?”

“When…” He liked her courage and confidence. He’d told her more than once. So she gathered it and held his stare. “I had my hands in your hair, holding you against me and when I wanted you to switch sides, I yanked your head back and pulled you to my other breast.”

A groan ripped from him. “Jesus, fuck. I don’t think my dick has ever been harder.” He reached in the water to adjust himself. “Do you want it?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I want it.” God did she ever. Now that the door had been unlocked, she was ready burst through and make up for the years-long dry spell.

Curly hooked reached behind her to the tie of her bathing suit. Shit, he was about to see her. No longer perky or twenty-five. Up close and personal. As personal as it got.

“Wait.”

He froze.

“I-I’m forty-one,” she said, holding his arms.

His forehead scrunched. “I know.”

“No, I mean, I’m forty-one as in not twenty-something. So I look like I’m forty-one.” Her face burned. “I wasn’t a bombshell at thirty, so I can’t imagine it’s gotten any better.” She tried for a nervous laugh but ended up with a half-choke, half-laugh.