Saving Dallas Forever (Saving Dallas 3)

“Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he said, working me slowly with painstakingly deep thrusts. I admired his face, his lips slightly parted, coating my face in his cool, minty breath, his ocean-blue eyes shining even at half-mast, and the small furrow between his brows. The feel of Luke stretching me, burying himself completely inside me, slightly circling his hips as his body connected to mine on each drive, was soothing and delicious. But when he lifted my leg, pushing it so that my knee was in my chest, and his drives became forceful, pummeling, plunges the feeling inside me intensified. His pace quickened, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me, and escalating my senses to a new height. The position was almost painful, but the tiny ache I felt when he reached that peak inside me was overpowered by the astonishing sensation of all that was him. It wasn’t just the area deep inside me that sparked when he touched it, or the tingle I felt when he rubbed against that wonderful cluster of nerves as he rotated his hips. It was everything; the way his eyes closed as his emotions claimed his face when I squeezed him or moaned his name, the way his veins bulged in his neck to accommodate the blood that rushed through them to get to his rapidly beating heart. It was the tattoos on his arms and how they stretched across his massive biceps as they formed an intricate pattern all the way to his wrists. Or maybe it was the way the muscles in his stomach constricted, showing me those perfectly toned abs every time his body arched to deliver me that next plunge, which could be the one to send me into that orgasmic abeyance. Whatever was causing me that tingle in my gut, those butterflies in my stomach, and that fulfillment in my heart was because of one man. One man who I’d rather die than live without. One man who made days that were not even my birthday special for me. One man who I know I would go to the ends of the earth for, and one man I had given everything to. As I shattered into orgasm, my body pulsating and contracting around him, I held my eyes open so I could see that one man who made my life worth living. That one man who owned my heart and soul: Lucas Lorn Carmical.

I was showered, dressed, and holding my nose as I chugged the drink Brooklyn assured me could cure any hangover. It smelled like motor oil and fish guts, but at this point, I would try anything. Luke’s good afternoon love-making had cured me temporarily, but as the day progressed, the shit feeling I had had when I woke up returned. It was ten minutes after five and the guys were planning another night out. This time, we had been invited to ride along since we were going to Wawee’s, which was a local spot that the club often frequented. Of course, on the night we actually got to ride, the temperature decided to take a nosedive into the low forties. I was dressed as warm as my wardrobe allowed, wearing two pair of leggings, skinny jeans, thigh-high boots, three shirts, a leather jacket, and my cut. Chi Chi assisted me with my bandana, which was over my ears in an attempt to keep them warm. Southerners thought anything below sixty degrees was cold, so tonight was considered freezing to us, and our destination was about a thirty minute ride away. Doing the math, ninety miles an hour in forty-two degree weather equaled too fucking cold.

“Let’s go,” Ronnie announced, as he stood there in leather from his head to his toes. I didn’t ask, but I was sure he had to special order his chaps to accommodate his long legs. We walked to the bikes in silence. Every ol’ lady was feeling the side effects of last night. I had not seen Red or Maddie all day, until about fifteen minutes ago when they had come trudging into the main room, begging Brooklyn for her miracle concoction. The guys, on the other hand, were taking full advantage of the silence by constantly talking and laughing extremely loudly, punishing us and our throbbing heads as a form of payback for having to take care of us. Everyone was present except for Katelyn. It was not unusual for a PROSPECT’s wife to not be present on any ride, unless it was a family affair or a situation like last night. Luke said PROSPECTs had enough to worry about, and throwing a wife into the mix just complicated shit. I could see how that would be a problem with a troublemaker like myself, but Katelyn actually knew how to act when she went out in public. We pulled into traffic and took off as if we were running from the cops, which I didn’t doubt, and I held tight to Luke, using his body to shield the freezing wind that seemed to cut through my layers of leather and clothes all the way to my skin. Luke was kind enough to turn on the radio and soon favorites of mine and his were blasting through the speakers. Classic country hit after classic country hit played, ranging from Vern Gosdin’s “Chiseled in Stone” to Johnny Paycheck’s “Old Violin”. I let the music take me away, singing the lyrics to myself as we flew down the highway. Before I knew it, we were pulling into Wawee’s and by the way Luke’s body tensed, I knew something was wrong. I peeked my head around his wide shoulders and found the parking lot lined with over sixty bikes. A wave of uneasiness washed over me, as Luke turned off the bike’s engine, leaning up to allow me to clamber off, before gracefully dismounting himself. A group of men gathered in a crowd in the center of the parking lot, forming a circle around someone or something.