Roan (The Henchmen MC 17)

Only then did his lips pull from mine, eyes opening, holding my gaze as his cock moved downward, pressing against me.

I felt my breath catch, my body tense as he started to press in, my body objecting to the sensation, a deep aching pinch as he pressed in, making a hissing whimper escape me, a sound that made Mikhail go stiff, his brows furrowing, something passing across his eyes that I couldn't seem to interpret as I focused more on the discomfort.

"Oh, Mack," he said, voice low, almost sad, as he pressed his forehead to mine, pausing, his hand going to the back of my neck, holding on, gently stroking the muscles there.

A little confused, I just held onto him as the discomfort eased, as it was replaced with something else, something different entirely, something aching in a good way, something that had my hips shifting, rocking.

"Please," I heard myself beg, trying to sink down, take more of him.

His head lifted, looking down at me, eyes hungry, jaw tight.

"Please," I asked again, fingers digging into his back.

With that, whatever was holding him back seemed to disappear as one of his hands sank into my ass, holding on as he slowly started rocking into me, taking me deeper, stoking the need inside.

My whimpers became moans as his other hand moved down between us, working my clit as he kept his unhurried, lazy, sweet pace, gaze holding mine as he drove me up, pushed me to the edge, gently threw me over.

His name choked out of me as the pulsations started, feeling more intense than ever before with the fullness of him inside me, making the waves seem to crash endlessly as his eyes held mine, as he worked me through it.

It wasn't until my body pretty much sagged against him that he pressed deep, body jolting as he came, hissing out my name.

We stayed that way for a long moment, bodies close, heartbeats lessening, breathing evening out.

His lips pressed softly to mine for a long second before pulling away, his eyes on mine.

"You okay?" he asked, voice almost worried. Or maybe I was mishearing.

Okay wasn't the right word.

Okay was weak.

Nothing ever felt as right as what we had just done.

But I couldn't seem to find the words to say that.

All I could manage was a slow smile, one that spread until my cheeks hurt, the sight of it making the tension leave his shoulders, made a small smile pull at his lips.

From there, he left me, handled the condom, handed me back my panties, then kissed me until my lips tingled before hauling me to his side, slowly pulling me through the halls and up the stairs.

Suddenly, I didn't care so much about the trip not being what I had expected.

Because it had turned out infinitely better.

"I don't want to go home," I admitted a while later as we were stopped at a light.

Mikhail's hand closed around my thigh, giving it a squeeze.

"You have work tomorrow, sweetheart," he reminded me, tone soft. "You can stay with me next time," he promised, looking over at me for a second before driving again.

"Yeah?" I asked, not wanting to sound needy, but also needing the reassurance.

"Of course," he assured me as we pulled up to my uncle's driveway.

He got out, going around the hood to open my door, offering me his hand to help me out, closing it behind me, then pressing me against it, hands framing my face, lips sealing over mine, making me think that it would be worth the wait to get to be near him again.

He pulled back, eyes deep, bottomless, yet full of something that I just didn't know how to interpret.

"Go get some sleep," he told me, stroking a finger down my jaw. "I'll see you soon."

And as he looked down at me, I had the oddest thought.

It was almost like he was trying to memorize me.

As though he was afraid he might not see me again.

But that was so ridiculous that I shook my head at my own train of thought.

I couldn't have known, of course, that this was exactly what he had been doing.

Or how much it would end up hurting.FIVERoanI blinked awake on a hotel room bed with a splitting headache, my stomach rolling ominously.

Anyone who'd ever experienced it knew it immediately.

A concussion.

I'd had a few of them in my day.

I knew from experience it was going to be a long, skull-splitting day.

Beneath me, there was a small pool of blood on the sheets, making me flip over onto my back, praying the bile chose to stay down as the world spun for a moment.

Reaching up, I felt the stickiness of drying blood. But no bone. So, I figured I could save myself a trip to the hospital.

"Christ," I mumbled to myself, staring up at the ceiling.