Bikers Librarian (Lords of Mayhem 1)

She nodded, unable to speak around her swollen throat. As far as she was concerned, this man now hung the moon. The scars on her heart faded a bit more as she fell harder. This was not a man who’d force her into sexual situations she had no interest in. He made her feel like she was enough. There would be no endless parade of women she was expected to watch fuck him.

“Just like I showed you how good sex can be, I’ll show you what a real man is. A man who puts his hands on a woman is a coward.” An ugly sneer twisted his lips. The disgust showed his outrage on her behalf. “You’re mine now, Juliette. I take care of what’s important to me. If you ever feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, you call me and I’ll take care of the issue.”

There had never been a male there to protect her. Even before Peter. Now this strong, capable man was practically pledging himself to her. He removed her hands from her knees and she slid back, watching him as he, kissed her belly gently, playfully nipping and laving her skin with his tongue, as if he could baptize her in his essence and exorcise the demons of her past. His gentle care made her tear up.

Shooter lifted his dark head. “You’re always safe with me, baby. I may yell and we might have some knock-down drag-outs because I’m a hardheaded bastard, but I’ll never put my hands on you.” He cocked his head. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” Her heart bled as she gave a large chunk of trust to a man. A gift she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to present again. She cherished the softer side he trusted her enough to see. This wasn’t the Shooter everyone else saw. Out in the world he was guarded and gruff, an impenetrable mass of a man who intimidated others. Alone he peeled back the layers and made her feel like the only woman in the world who mattered.

His body covered hers. She welcomed the warm weight of his lower body pressing her into the bed. He captured her breast with his mouth. Streaks of pleasure ran down her body, shifting the mood from sadness to rebirth. He ground into her, teasing her slick entrance with his cock as he stroked between her lips over and over, stimulating her clit.

Their bodies moved together in a silent dance and she greedily drank in all he had to offer. A few more thrusts and she came undone beneath him. Flashes of white detonated behind her eyes. Her body convulsed as she transcended pleasure. This dangerous man had put a measure of healing on her no amount of medicine or psychiatrists had been able to accomplish.

Grunting, he moved his head up and buried his face in her neck. “I want to be inside you so bad it hurts, baby. Are you on birth control?”

“No.” Her voice shook.

“I’m clean. I can show you my papers. I want to get you on birth control so I can come inside you.”

The idea sent a thrill through her. It awakened something primal in her, knowing he wanted to claim her so desperately.

He smiled. “You like that?”

“Yes. I’m clean too.”

“I figured as much, baby girl.” The endearment wrapped around her and bound them as surely as a rope. They were sharing something tangible she couldn’t name. A meeting of tattered souls brought together by fate. “I’m close, baby. Can I come on you? Rub my seed over your skin and pretend it’s inside that tight pussy of yours?”

“Oh yes.”

The room went silent except for his ragged breathing. The cords of muscles in his neck and arms strained. A low moan filled the room and he pulled out, painting her belly and chest white. The sticky, hot liquid banished the lingering chill. Whatever existed between them wouldn’t be ignored or pushed aside.

Chapter Eight

Juliette glanced at herself in the mirror and scowled. What the hell did you wear to a party at a M.C. Club? Shooter assured her whatever was comfortable would be good but she didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb. This would be her first official showing as his old lady. It made her feel like a prize pony in a contest. In the end, she opted for a pair of dark skinny jeans and a flowing black tank top with silver straps. She’d exchanged heels for a pair of black combat boots she’d bought the first week she and Shooter had been together.

Things had been going well for them. What if they didn’t like her? What if she offended someone? Her stomach tightened, like a shirt shrinking after being submerged in cold water. After fluffing the hair she’d wrapped in curling rods the night before, she placed her hands on her hips.

“This is as good as it’s going to get, Moore.” Sticking her tongue out, she laughed at her silliness. Being with Shooter brought out her playful side. He made life seem a lot more exciting and carefree. It was hard to be a bundle of nerves when the person you were with avoided stress like the plague. His unique take on the world made for interesting conversations.

The familiar rumble of his motorcycle vibrated the air and she grinned. Grabbing her black purse, she hurried out of the room to the front door and opened it. Eager to meet the men he considered family and see how Shooter lived, her body tingled.

“Hi.” She pushed forward on the balls of her feet, and he grinned, giving her a slow once-over.

“I think that’s some sort of record.”

“You never have to wait on me.”

“No, but I don’t think you’ve ever met me in the driveway.”

“I missed you?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long five hours.”

“Shut up, Shooter.”

His deep chuckle made her stomach flutter. The intensity between them never faded. One look and her panties were drenched. So much that she’d started stashing extra pairs in handy places.

The look on Joey’s face when Juliette had shoved a pair of thong underwear in the inner pocket of her purse and zipped it shut had been priceless. After her quick explanation of what she’d done, Joey had whispered, “I have to get me one of those.” It still made Juliette smirk.