Blood & Bones - Dodge (Blood Fury MC 10)

She was so goddamn young, too. Older than he first thought, but still…

For a split moment, he considered stopping things right where they were before taking it any further. She’d already had two orgasms; he’d be the only one missing out.

Well, not quite.

He had enjoyed every second of making her “let go.” And as soon as he sucked her tang off his middle finger after the first orgasm, he knew he had to have more.

But was only satisfying her enough to satisfy him? If he searched deep enough and didn’t fucking lie to himself, no.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes unfocused and she blinked up at him slowly as he towered over her. He couldn’t deny he wanted her naked. Or that he wanted her in his bed. But he had no patience right now to wait for either of those things to happen.

So, fuck reconsidering.

He wanted her. She wanted him. Enough fucking said.

Her, “Please,” came out thick and sluggish, almost as if she was drunk. He knew for a fact she hadn’t drank a damn thing tonight. Not even one drop of alcohol. Why? Because he paid attention to that, something he normally didn’t care about unless a potential fuck was buzzed enough not to make a good decision. And sloppy drunks were not only unattractive, but a huge no-go for him.

He needed to get it in his fat head that she wouldn’t be any different than any of the other women he’d had in his recent past. He had sex with plenty of women for mutual satisfaction and nothing more. He’d always made it clear before taking them upstairs. They could agree or he’d walk away.

What consenting adults did was between those participants. No one else.

Syn was definitely an adult. Thank fuck.

Another whispered, “Please,” proved she was consenting. No risk of second thoughts on her part. But on his? Would there be afterwards?

He usually never had regrets as long as the woman was willing and wasn’t annoying as fuck, even for the short amount of time he spent with her. Syn wasn’t annoying but she was frustrating.

“Dodge.”

His name snapped him out of his thoughts. He snagged the wrap off the pool table and ripped it open before rolling it down his uncomfortably hard dick that was throbbing like it had its own heart. At the same time his balls screamed at him about needing relief and to “fuck off” with any second thoughts.

The woman now lying back on the pool table should only be only that. Relief. Nothing more.

Just another catch-and-release.

Remember, not a goddamn thing more, dumbass. She should be no different than any of the rest of them.

Her dark eyes, her parted lipstick-free lips, the long, dark hair spilled around her. Her nipples trying to punch through her cotton shirt. The smooth, ivory skin of her bare legs, that patch of dark hair he wanted to bury his face in again… Why was it all so damn mesmerizing?

Addicting.

Soul sucking.

Why was he letting her fuck with his head? Even if she wasn’t doing it on purpose, it was still happening.

He grabbed her arm and yanked her off the table.

He should pull the wrap off his dick, tell her to get dressed and walk away while he still could.

Of fucking course, that wasn’t what he did.

Fuck no. Because he was a dumbass speeding down Dumbass Lane at a hundred miles an hour in a cage with a loose wheel about to fall off.

He spun her around again, bent her over the pool table and with one hand planted on her back to hold her in place, he shoved his jeans down further.

It was better this way. To not look at her. To prevent himself from falling into whatever spell she was conjuring, even if she wasn’t aware of it.

Continuing down this road was dangerous.

So damn dangerous.

But, Jesus fuck, her ass. Two perfect handfuls, so pale they couldn’t have seen the light of day in years. One sharp smack of his palm would leave a red mark behind on that perfect skin.

He was tempted, so fucking tempted, but managed to refrain, unsure whether she’d be into that or not. She seemed to be obstinate enough that if he spanked her ass, even playfully, she might try to give him a black eye in return.

With one hand, he spread those cheeks, with the other, he slid the head of his dick through her crease and planted it right where it needed to be. Right where it would only take one small thrust to be inside her.

Was she holding her breath in anticipation like he was?

He worried that he’d hurt her. He wasn’t huge, but she had been so much tighter than expected. He was average length, but girth-wise… He hadn’t gotten any complaints. Because of that, he’d fight his urge to go balls to the walls like he normally did. Instead, he’d take it slow, take his time, let her get used to—