Blood & Bone - Easy (Blood Fury MC 12)

Though, tonight no instinct was needed. She was on her knees waiting in the center of his bed. He knew what that meant. She wanted to be on top.

After he stretched out, she quickly straddled him, grabbed his cock, held it firmly, and slowly—oh so fucking slowly—slid down his length. Her pussy was hot, soft and so damn slick. Pure fucking heaven as it swallowed his cock whole. And once he was seated inside her, she even circled her hips to make sure he couldn’t go any deeper.

He couldn’t. He wished like fuck he could.

He was never deep enough. If he could climb inside her and take her completely, he would.

With her palms planted on his chest, she began to rise and fall, slowly at first, taking her time, making them both wait for the reason she visited him.

The only reason.

A means to an end.

That was what women had been to him in the past. And now this was all he was to her.

Her slender body was nothing but a shadow leaning over him as he reached up and used his fingers to trace her outline. Her jaw, her full lips, her delicate throat. He followed the path of her pulse to the hollow of her neck, along her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder.

Finally, he brushed both thumbs over her tightly puckered nipples and caught the weight of her tits in his palms. Kneading and squeezing. Twisting and tweaking. Trying to get her to break. To say something. To say anything.

But she was strong, determined and stubborn as fuck, the same as all the women in the Fury were. Not once had he made her break, no matter what he did.

Did he hear her breathing change and catch at the back of her throat? Fuck yeah.

Did he hear her groans and sighs? Fuck yeah.

Did he ever hear his name pass her lips? No. Not once.

She might not realize it yet… He was just as strong, determined and stubborn as she was. And he would make her cry out his name. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

That was guaran-fucking-teed.

Leaving one hand cupped around her tit, he grabbed a handful of her hair, using it to pull her down to him. He took her mouth to make it known she was in his “house” right now. To tell her he was only playing by her rules, not because he wanted to, but only because he was forced to.

Whether that was true or not, he wanted her to think it was.

When she tried to take control of the kiss, he pushed her tongue out of his mouth, and demanded entrance to hers, instead.

She gave it to him, but her tongue still clashed with his as she rode his cock faster, no longer taking her time, but driving them to the end a lot quicker than he wanted.

He should slow her down. Force her to make it last longer.

Because, for fuck’s sake, she would leave as soon as they were done.

She tried to break free of the kiss, but he only held on tighter, keeping her there.

What he couldn’t say out loud, he told her silently.

You’re mine.

You’re fuckin’ mine.

Whether you wanna admit it or not.

You’re gonna realize it one day soon.

And when you do…

Oh, fuck, when you do…

There will be no hidin’ it.

Everybody will fuckin’ know. Just like I already do.

But ’til then we’ll play this chess game of yours.

’Til the king captures the queen, knockin’ her off her feet and outta the game.

Check-fuckin’-mate.

As she ground down on him one more time, he kept her mouth locked with his and captured her cry, swallowing it, keeping it.

Because it was his.

He now owned it.

She wasn’t ever getting it back.

As soon as he released the grip on her hair, she rose up, arching that delicate spine, riding out the remainder of her orgasm. He grabbed her hips and held her there as his own rose off the bed and, with a grunt, he came inside her and stayed buried deep, riding out his own orgasm until his cock stopped twitching.

As intense as his orgasms were with her while wearing a wrap, he couldn’t imagine what they’d be like without one.

Mind-blowing, for fucking sure.

The second he lowered his ass back to the bed, she was rolling off him, off his bed and trying to get to her feet.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, but when he took a breath, and before the words could escape, she did what she did every time he began to speak. She pressed her fingers to his lips and shook her head.

The mattress shifted again when he released her once more, giving her her freedom. Emptiness consumed him the second she left the bed and, as always, prepared to leave him. The whisper of those clothes sliding back over her skin once again deafening in the dead of night.