Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC 5)

Wrenching another orgasm from her, the intense pulses of her pussy and his cock blended together. She didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

His teeth and hands held her in place as they both rode out their orgasms. Until every throb, every twitch, faded away.

Fuck yes whispered through her as she imagined him coating her inside. Marking her. Claiming her.

Even though that didn’t—couldn’t—really happen, it drew something from deep within her.

What she was desperately trying to avoid.

She knew sleeping with him would be dangerous. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise what having sex with him would invoke.

But she couldn’t explore it. She needed to stay focused. She couldn’t allow her future to become derailed simply due to a man.

No matter who he was.

She needed to remember, above all else, what he was. What he was a part of. Something he stepped back into willingly. Unlike her.

He unclamped his teeth from her flesh, licked the spot slowly, sensually, then whispered, “Want you to be my dessert after dinner every fuckin’ night.”

Yes, she wanted that, too.

For however long she had left here.

For the time they had left together, she reminded herself once more.

Only until then.

“Don’t wanna move,” he said softly, still draped heavily over her back.

She didn’t want him to move, either. Not yet.

However, it was inevitable and she could only take his crushing weight for so long. Plus, physiology had proven their physical connection would be broken soon anyway.

“Fuck,” he muttered when that happened, separating the two of them. He sighed and shifted his weight off her and rolled from the bed to his feet.

Unmoving, she only turned her head on the pillow to watch him, his hair disheveled more than normal, his cock slick from their combined cum and a flush from exertion flaring up his tattooed chest.

“Gonna clean up and bring you somethin’, too. Don’t move. Be back in a few.”

He wasn’t asking, he was telling. Normally that would bother her, but satisfaction caused a deep-seated laziness within her bones. She was in no rush to go anywhere.

A few minutes later he was back. Beads of water still clinging to the short, dark wiry hairs from which his now soft, but still impressive, cock was showcased.

In one hand he held a wet washcloth, in the other one of his T-shirts. “Roll over.”

With a soft sigh, she did.

“Prefer you naked. But if you gotta wear somethin’...”

He tossed the cotton tee onto her belly. At first, she actually thought he’d toss the wet cloth on her belly, too, expecting her to clean herself up and was surprised when he did it himself by gently parting her thighs and wiping her clean.

She would head to the bathroom soon, anyway. Otherwise, Cage would be leaking from her all night. A reminder that, once again, they were relying on her birth control pill to not get her pregnant. She hoped to hell she wasn’t playing Russian Roulette with any other possibilities.

He could say he wrapped it tight with every female he’d ever been with, but Dyna was proof of prophylactic failure.

Well, there went her afterglow from being sexually satisfied.

He didn’t join her in bed, but instead, once again, told her they were sleeping in his.

She doubted the night would only be filled with sleep. It was early yet. And she had a feeling he wasn’t done with her for the night.

Dyna would most likely wake a few times, too. Another good reason for her to sleep in her own bed.

When she told him that, he wasn’t having any of it. She could force the issue, but decided it wasn’t worth it. And, for fuck’s sake, she wanted to curl up next to him and sleep. To feel his presence within arm’s reach.

To maybe even spoon.

Again, she reminded herself, for only as long as she stayed in Manning Grove.

She tugged his shirt over her head and let the worn cotton fall around her. His cum was planted deep, his scent encompassed her.

He was claiming ownership inside and out.

It’s only temporary. Let him have this.

Let yourself have this. It isn’t forever.

On their way out of her bedroom, he snagged the old Rolling Stones T-shirt she’d been wearing previously and balled it within his fist.

“What are you doing with that? It’s my favorite.”

“Burnin’ the fuckin’ thing. You pick any of my shirts to wear. Whatever it is will be your new favorite.”

She glanced down at the one he’d picked for her. She wondered how much thought he’d put into it, if any at all. The shirt she wore only covered her to the top of her thighs, but on the front it read Life Behind Bars with a skeleton torso behind the handlebars of a motorcycle.

Yeah, she wasn’t sure if he thought that one through. Ox would’ve spent life behind bars if he hadn’t been killed in prison. Another reminder of why she had no desire to be a part of this, or any, club. Why she worried for Judge and Deacon.