Ride Hard (Raven Riders 1)

A big hand grasped her other thigh and hauled her up the wall, until Dare was all that held her up—his hands under her legs, his hips against hers, his cock deep inside her. A long withdraw and a slow, deep thrust had them both moaning.

Haven wrapped her arms around Dare’s neck and held on as his strokes picked up pace, his hips withdrawing and returning faster, his breaths coming harder, a stream of groans and curses spilling out of that harsh, beautiful mouth.

“Christ, Haven,” he ground out. He kissed her deeply—her mouth, her lips, her neck, and back to her mouth again. As he moved faster, they couldn’t hold the kiss. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers and their hair made a curtain around their faces, his dark brown, hers lighter. And it made her feel like they were together against the world and no one could hurt her ever again.

“Don’t stop,” she said. “Don’t stop. Never stop.”

Dare pulled her off the wall and carried her to the vanity. “Not a chance,” he said, sitting her down on the granite between the double sinks.

Haven braced her hands behind her, her head reclining back against the mirror.

“Not a fucking chance,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

The new angle had his pubic bone grinding against her clit again and again. She gasped into the kiss.

He pulled his lips away from hers and stared down to where his body penetrated hers. “Look how good we look,” he rasped, watching her watch him disappearing inside her. Again and again.

Heat filled Haven’s cheeks even as she was absolutely fascinated by his movements, her slickness on his length, the wet sounds they made together. “It’s really . . . freaking . . . hot,” she said.

One side of his mouth quirked up into a wicked grin. “It’s really fucking hot.” He arched a brow, as if challenging her.

She looked down again just as he sank deep and his sack rocked against her butt cheeks.

He planted his hand against her lower belly and stroked his thumb over her clit. Fast and firm. “Say it. Tell me how hot it is.”

Haven’s mouth dropped open on a moan. “It’s really fucking hot,” she whispered, her gaze flashing back to his.

“That’s right,” he growled, leaning in again to claim her mouth. His thumb continued to strum at her clit until she felt entirely overwhelmed by him—his mouth stealing her breath, his body pressing her down, his cock deep inside her. “You coming all over my cock would be even hotter,” he said, nailing her with a stare.

Those words out of that mouth was like someone had taken a blowtorch to her skin. She flashed hot and felt herself get wetter, her heart ready to explode from her chest. His hips moved faster, his thrusts deeper, more pointed, rocking her whole body. All the while his thumb stroked her. And then he grabbed her ass in his hands, leaned over her, and lifted her up into his strokes so that his pubic bone ground into her clit on every mind-blowing thrust.

“Come on me, Haven,” he rasped against her mouth. “Fucking come on me.”

It was the hottest, wildest, headiest thing anyone had ever said to her. Sensation wound up inside her tighter and tighter until she was holding her breath and reaching and finally, finally coming all over him, her body fisting around his again and again. Her cry sounded tortured to her own ears, but then Dare was shouting and straining against her and holding her so tight it almost hurt. But it was the best thing she’d ever felt in her whole life.

Everything she’d never even known she wanted. Something she already knew she would never be able to live without.

“Beautiful, everything about you,” he whispered roughly against her cheek. Dark eyes flashed at her when he pulled away. “Stay right there.” He eased out of her and discarded the condom in the trash can, then he stepped to the big glass shower and reached inside to turn on the water.

Haven missed his heat immediately but found herself absolutely fascinated by the huge tattoo covering most of his back—the same raven perched on a knife sticking out of a skull’s eye socket that appeared on all of the Ravens’ logos. An arch of capital letters sat above the image—RAVEN RIDERS. The ink covered a large scar that ran all down the right side of his back.

He turned to her and helped her down from the counter. “You doin’ okay?” He pressed his lips against her temple.

“Better than okay,” she said, oddly self-conscious given what they’d just done as he walked her to the shower. She gave him a shy smile, loving the tenderness softening the harsh angles of his face, but not sure whether she was reading too much into it. “Way better.”