Devil (Savage MC--Tennessee 1)

I take a breath and then bunch my fingers in the hem of his shirt. He laid on my bed fully clothed last night. He slept all night in his jeans and shirt. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but he didn’t press for more either.

“Lean up,” I ask quietly as I pull his T-shirt from his body. He helps me navigate it over his head and I ignore the way my heart keeps slamming against my chest. Once I’m done I throw the shirt down on the floor. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” I tell him. He grins up at me lazily.

“No one was stopping you, Angel,” he says, but he’s wrong. I was stopping myself. I second guess myself constantly now, but I’ve vowed to stop doing that with Devil. He says I’m safe with him, and in my heart I believe him.

I drag my gaze back down to his now bare chest. He’s not one of these pretty boys who has waxes and man-scaping done. I always suspected that, but looking at the hair on his chest, it’s confirmed. I actually like that he has hair there. It’s not overly hairy, but enough that I want to press my chest against his and rake my breasts through it, feel it…

“How did you get this?” I ask, my finger moving over an old scar, which is obviously a knife wound. It’s so close to his heart that I inwardly cringe.

“Someone tried to kidnap Diesel’s kid. I made the mistake of going easy on them because it was a woman…” He shrugs. My fingers stall over the scar and I look at Devil.

“Women can be as deadly as a man,” I tell him, knowing that to be true. How many times in my past was I overlooked because of my sex? I always used it to my advantage… at least until I found myself a prisoner with no chance of escape.

“Learned that the hard way, Angel,” he says.

I lean down to kiss the scar, feeling the hard raised ridge against my lips.

“You can trust me, Logan,” I tell him, needing him to understand that. “I know I haven’t made it easy, but I’ve had a lot going on. I never would have lied if—”

He brings his fingers up to my lips to stop me from talking.

“It’s the past, Torrent. All in the past. The only thing that matters is what’s between us and in front of us right now. The only thing I regret about the past is that I didn’t try harder to find you after that damn nun told me you left.”

“You tried to find me?” I whisper, feeling happy at his words.

“Not hard enough and for that I’m sorry,” he tells me, his words solemn and forthright.

“It’s all in the past. Nothing matters but what’s between us right now,” I respond giving his words back to him.

I let my fingers travel down his body, drawing an imaginary line that only I can see. I pass a few other scars and one looks like it was caused from a bullet. I don’t ask about it; I’m not sure I really want to know right now. Even with the scars marring his skin, he’s utter perfection. Men usually don’t like to be called beautiful, but there’s no other word for Devil. I don’t share that with him, however. My hands go to his jeans and I unlatch the button and carefully slide the zipper down over the large bulge pressing against the denim.

My hands shake a little. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a man, but it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be with one too.

I trace the tattoo that hangs low on his groin. It’s a 666 that starts black and slowly fades into different hues of red until the tips of the 6’s all are bright, fiery red.

“I can’t believe you have this tattoo,” I smile, then slide further down his legs so I can bend down and trace the numbers with my tongue.

“Don’t worry, baby. I promise my dick’s not cursed and it’s only evil if you don’t touch it,” he jokes. His fingers slide through my hair as I’m kissing him, massaging my scalp and tenderly caressing me. It’s nice.

It’s more than nice.

“I guess I’ll have to touch it, then,” I murmur.

It takes some work, because my legs are shaking at best, but I slide off of Devil and stand on the floor. I’m a mess of desire, hunger, and nerves. Devil helps me take his pants off and we do the work in silence, the air too thick for words. The only sound you can hear is the mixture of our breathing.

His cock springs out almost immediately—no boxers or briefs for him. I wasn’t wrong about him either. He’s big, so big that I grow wetter from looking at how impressive he is. Every feminine part in my body tightens in response. He’s a vast range of colors, from darkened flushed colors around the head to lighter and brighter colors down the shaft. There’s a bulging vein that runs along the center of his cock that I’m dying to press my tongue to. I can’t really tell how long he is. I’ve never really thought about it much with a man; as long as they had enough to get the job done it has never really mattered, but the truth of it is that Devil is generously endowed and I find myself being more than thankful. He’s also so wide there’s a part of me wondering how he will fit inside of me.