Colson (The Henchmen MC 20)

"Force of habit. Jelly turns lights on even in the daytime," he explained, reaching down to pull his shirt off.

I had been bone-deep tired before.

But there was just enough light on from the home screen on my TV to make out those delicious indents of his abs, and I forgot all about being exhausted.

"Babe..." he said, shaking his head at me, reading the change on my face. "You need some sleep," he added as I made my way around the foot of the bed toward him, my hands gliding over his hips, sliding upward over his ribs, across his chest.

"There's something else I need," I said, my hands moving over his strong shoulders, folding across the back of his neck as I pressed forward into his chest, angling my face up to him.

"There's no rush," he told me even as his hands went around my hips, sank down into my ass.

"No rush," I agreed, smiling. "So long as it's right now," I added, getting a chuckle out of him, the sound vibrating into my own chest.

"So, what I am hearing is," he said, squeezing my ass. "You want me to take my time... right now."

"That sounds perfect," I agreed, going up on my toes to press my lips to his. "So long as you promise not to judge me for having sex with you before our first date."

"It'll be our secret," he agreed before we stopped talking entirely, his lips crushing into mine, this time with very little restraint, bruising, demanding, teeth nipping, tongue moving in to claim.

It was a kiss I felt down to my toes, into my bones, turning them molten with the heat as Colson's hands started to roam, slipping up under my shirt, tracing my spine, then moving into the waistband of my pants and panties, palming my bare ass, fingertips digging in.

I broke away first, raising my hands over my head, watching as he removed my shirt, tossing it to the side.

I'd given up on wearing a bra after the first night at the clubhouse. I had been borrowing clothes left around, but no one had my same bra size, and I wasn't about to hand wash the damn thing all the time. So I just went without, usually layering up with one of Colson's sweatshirts if I was leaving the room.

So when he took off my shirt, there was nothing stopping his hands from closing over my breasts.

But before I could really get lost in the sensation, he was walking me backward, nudging until I lowered down onto the bed, then reaching down, snagging my pants and panties, and pulling them down my legs.

I could barely get used to the cool sensation skittering across my skin before he was bending my knees into my chest, then spreading them wide, pressing them onto the mattress as he lowered down.

Anticipation was a live wire moving through my system, every nerve ending overly sensitive as Colson's lips pressed into the skin to the side of my knee, making slow—excruciatingly slow—progress upward.

By the time his tongue traced the crease of my thigh, the pressure on my lower belly was borderline painful.

"Colson," I whimpered, hands shamelessly grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him where I needed him most.

His lips hovered over my clit, drawing in a breath, making cool air glide across me, before softly exhaling hot air.

I nearly came right then and there.

As it was, my legs shot out, folded up, trapped him between. As if he had any intention of moving away.

He didn't.

His tongue traced down my cleft, teasing around the entrance to my body for a long moment before folding and thrusting slightly in.

"Colson, please," I whimpered, my hands grabbing the back of his head, my hips rocking up into him.

His tongue slid out of me, moving upward, working slow circles around my clit, driving me right up to the edge, forcing me over.

My whole body did a shudder with the orgasm, my back arching up, a strangled sound forcing its way out from between my lips.

He moved away after, kissing up my hip, across my belly, his tongue tracing the line upward from my navel, then the swells under my breasts, making a shiver course through me.

My body, so sated by the orgasm, started flickering once again with desire. Not just for release to the growing pressure inside, but to feel him. Over me, under me, inside of me, every which way I could possibly have him.

His head shifted up, then his lips closed around my hardened nipple, sucking hard, and just at the peak of pleasure at the sensation, his lips released, his teeth sank in, sending white-hot heat over my nerve endings, a hissing moan escaping me. His tongue soothed over the bite marks as my shameless legs folded around his back, my hips writhing against him, needing more, needing everything.