Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

He growled and pulled back, slamming back inside.

And that was literally all it took.

One second, I was normal Royal, and the next I was a completely changed Royal. One that knew the magic of Justice Rector’s magnificent, life-changing penis.

I covered my face with a pillow and screamed, my body arching up to such an extreme that I no longer felt the pillow underneath my ass.

He held onto my hips, not slowing his thrusting through my orgasm.

And thank God for small favors, because he knew exactly what he was doing with that penis of his.

It was highly likely that I was being too loud, but my body was totally disconnected from my brain. It was doing things that I never would’ve allowed under normal circumstances.

But, as my body started to come down from what he’d just done to it, I realized that where Justice was concerned, I’d likely never be normal again. At least when he was inside of me.

When I finally recovered enough to realize that his thrusts had turned slow and even, less pounding and frantic, I realized that he too had come.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “What the hell was that?”

I wish I had light.

I wanted to see his face.

And, as if the gods were on my side for once, both of our phone screens lit up at almost the same time. My phone from where I’d placed it upon arriving in the room directly next to his.

I blinked in surprise at the look of utter possession on his face.

“That,” he growled, his eyes skimming down my body. “That was something that we’ll be repeating once I catch my breath.”

He was breathing kind of hard.

Then again, so was I.

I grinned wickedly at him when he finally came to a lazy stop inside of me, pressing once more so deeply inside of me that I nearly came off the bed.

It didn’t matter that I’d just come.

I was still so sensitive that I could go for orgasm number two any second.

Something in which he realized in the next second.

Which caused his cock to jerk.

I licked my lips. “We’re going to make a mess of your bed if you don’t let me up.”

He looked down at the pillow underneath me.

“I don’t use this pillow,” he teased. “That’s okay.”

I shook my head frantically.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowing your mother to clean up our mess,” I told him bluntly. “I want her to like me.”

He snorted and gathered me up into his arms.

Then I was moving.

I gasped as he guided me up away from the bed, all such a sheer show of strength that my breath hitched.

“If you want me to not drop you right here and do you again, I’d suggest not clenching onto my dick like you just did, please,” he growled.

My lips twitched as I wound my arms around his neck.

Our phones started buzzing like crazy, causing both of us to freeze. I saw the screens light up earlier, but I thought we had caused the screen to light to in our earlier exuberance.

He turned and backtracked back to the bedside table where his phone was, then took the phone off the charger and brought it up to his face. All the while keeping the other hand locked securely around my ass.

“What’s it say?” I asked, looking at the bed where my phone had been haphazardly discarded the moment I’d come into his room.

“We’re under a tornado warning for the next hour,” he read, then tossed the phone aside.

Neither of us really reacted to it.

Growing up in the south as we had—or I was assuming he had since I hadn’t gotten that in-depth with his background—we weren’t normal people where tornado warnings occurred.

We got so many of them at certain times of the year that they were literally just par for the course at this point.

I used ‘it is what it is’ quite a bit when I was talking to my friends who came from up north and settled down in Texas not too long ago.

“Shower?” I asked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that you couldn’t take showers in the rain because of the lightning that could travel through the pipes?” he teased as he walked straight into the bathroom then turned on the shower.

I felt my belly dip at his words.

“My mother died when I was very young,” I said. “But, even then, I doubt she would’ve said that. Did I ever tell you why I was named Royal?”

He frowned. “No.”

He sounded pissed, too.

As if my words had upset him.

He pulled out of me then and set me down in the shower, following behind me just as fast and closing the glass door behind him.

I tilted my head back so the water could saturate my hair, then opened my eyes and looked at him.

“I’d royally fucked up her life,” I said. “She and my father weren’t married, and, from what Marta told me, she wasn’t happy about having to marry him when she found out that she was pregnant. They decided on Royal. Or so my father told Marta. Because I’d royally changed their entire lives just by being conceived. And that was a royal pain in their ass.”