Roan (The Henchmen MC 17)

It soared through my system, making me press my thighs press tightly together, trying to ease the chaos there.

His teeth grazed.

His tongue traced.

And there was nothing in the entire world but this, him, as he moved across my chest to tease my other nipple.

Just as suddenly as he started, he stopped, making a whimper escape me as he looked down at me, lids heavy, smile sweet as I felt his hand moving, sliding downward, gently scrunching up my skirt, so he could slip beneath, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin at the inside of my thigh.

I sucked in a slow, deep breath that shook through my chest just a second before his hand pressed over my sex through my panties.

I was almost sure I would come right then and there, but before I could even wrap my head around that possibility, I felt his hands slip under my panties, sliding up my slick cleft, finding my clit, and working it in slow, patient circles with his thumb.

Mikhail's gaze was on me as his forefinger moved downward, pulsing at the opening to my body for a long moment before slowly slipping inside.

"Oh, my God," I whimpered, leaning forward, burying my face in his neck, breathing him in as his finger started thrusting before turning, stroking over the top wall, making my walls tighten, pushing my body to the edge.

"Come, sweetheart," he demanded, voice rough as he kept working me, making not doing as he demanded outright impossible.

The orgasm rushed through my body with an intensity that made my leg muscles shake and weaken, leaving me clinging to him as the waves crashed through me, as he kept working me through it, milking it for all it was worth.

"You want me to stop?" he asked after the pulsations subsided, making me realize his hand was gripping my panties, like it was taking actual work not to rip them off of me.

Did I want him to stop?

No.

No way.

Was I nervous? Yes.

Was this how I had pictured it in my head alone in bed at night? No. In my head, I imagined his hotel room, soft sheets, lovely views.

But the idea of him stopping made my stomach wobble.

I wanted this.

I wanted this more than I had imagined I could.

"No," I told him, voice certain as my lips pressed into his neck before pulling back, wanting to see his face as he slowly slipped my panties down my legs, waiting for me to step out of them before he lowered down suddenly, hauling up my leg, putting my knee over his shoulder as his face buried between my thighs, his tongue tracing over my clit, the sensation making my inner thighs shake.

I didn't think it would be possible so soon after one orgasm, I felt my body soaring upward again.

This time, when I felt him slide inside, it was two fingers - thrusting, stroking, spreading, preparing.

Before another orgasm could claim me, his face left me as he got back to his feet, sealing his lips over mine.

My hands, greedy for him as he had been for me, worked his buttons free, let his shirt split open, exposing his strong chest, his abdominal muscles, the deep etch of a V that disappeared into his pants. And the outline of a tattoo that went over his shoulder and teased up the side of his neck a bit.

I couldn't seem to concentrate on that, though, as my hands slid down his chest, stomach, watching the muscles tense under the touch as my hands made a beeline for the clasp of his belt, working it, then his button and zip, free.

I took a deep breath before my hand moved boldly inside, closing my hand around his cock, hearing a hiss escape him as I stroked down his length a little tentatively at first, then more confidently, faster, loving the way his gaze glazed over, his body tensed, his hand fisted and slammed into the wall above my head, staying there, steadying him as I worked him.

I started to lower down, to take him into my mouth like he had done for me, but his hand stopped me, pulled me back up.

His lips sealed over mine, harder, hungrier, barely controlled.

His hand removed mine from his cock, disappearing for a moment.

His lips ripped from mine again as I realized where his hand had been - fishing out a condom. He quickly protected us, then sealed his lips to mine again as he reached down to cock my leg up, guide it around his hip and lower back, opening me up to him.

He was unhurried, though, as he seemed to get control over himself again, making his lips less hard, less hungry, but deeper, more intimate. For so long I had forgotten we were in the middle of something until his hand moved between us, grabbed his cock, sliding it up and down between my folds, tapping the head against my clit until my hips were moving against him, begging for more.