Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

“You brought that up here for me?” I ask, shrugging off my cut and draping it over a chair.

“Yup. Go stretch out on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” I mutter, watching her duck into the bathroom.

I strip down to my boxer briefs and sprawl out on the mattress, waiting for her to return.

A minute or so later, she steps into the room and lowers the lights. As she approaches, I notice she’s still fully clothed and the bag of ice is now wrapped in a washcloth.

“Why are your clothes still on?” I ask.

She glances down. “I really was planning to ice your face, not get frisky.”

“Who says we can’t do both?”

Shelby

Damn, if his big, cocky grin doesn’t chase away the last of my anxiety.

I set the washcloth full of ice on the nightstand and shimmy out of my jeans.

“That’s better. Keep going,” Rooster encourages.

“You’re a naughty patient.”

“Haven’t you heard? Skin-on-skin contact has healing properties.”

“Is that right?” I toss my shirt on the chair with his clothes and slide into bed, sitting up against the pillows. Rooster reaches over and runs his hand over my leg.

“Why so far away?”

“Come to me.” I pat my lap.

He shifts over, resting his head on my thighs.

“That’s better.” I stroke my fingers over his unmarked cheek.

His eyes drift closed. “See, I feel better already.”

“Good.” I reach for the ice, and gently set it against his bruised jawline. He flinches but doesn’t try to move away or stop me. “Relax,” I whisper, running my free fingers through his hair.

He grunts but some of the tension melts from his body.

“I wish I’d brought up a bigger bag of ice. I should’ve known you’d return with more bruises.”

Without opening his eyes he flexes his right hand a few times. “I can still twist the throttle. I’ll be fine.”

“We have a long ride tomorrow to get back to the truck,” I remind him.

“I know.”

After a few minutes, I move the ice from his cheek to his knuckles.

“I got it,” he says, taking the pack from my hands and pressing it tighter against his skin.

I return to running my fingers through his hair.

“That feels nice,” he mumbles.

Touching him, knowing he’s safe and sound, seems to soothe me, and my eyes close.

There’s a crinkle. Rooster’s body shifts. I open my eyes as he’s turning to face me.

“Come here, I want to try something.”

“What?”

He holds up a dripping ice cube with one hand and reaches for me with the other.

“What are you doing?” I watch with an amused smile as he tugs my bra cups down, exposing my breasts.

“This.” He slides the ice over one of my nipples.

I inhale a sharp breath.

He skips to the other nipple.

I groan as he keeps teasing the melting cube over one nipple, then the other, chilling them to diamonds.

He leans in and warms one breast with his hot mouth, sucking on the hard tip. I gasp and stab my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for more or trying to control the sensations, I’m not sure which.

All the focused attention on my breasts shoots a zip of tingles to my core.

As the ice melts, it leaves a wet path dripping down my stomach. Logan licks the droplets, warming my skin.

He reaches for my bra, unhooking and tossing it away.

I need to be closer, need the pressure of him between my legs. Rolling forward, I close the last bit of distance between us. Swinging my leg up and over, I settle myself in his lap with my arms around his neck.

He rests his hands at my waist and leans against the pillows, studying me with an amused expression. “What’re you doing, chickadee?”

“I needed to be much closer.” I roll my hips, pressing myself against his erection. “Much, much closer.”

He groans and his eyelids drop.

I kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Sounds like you wanted me closer too.”

“Mmm, I had some other things in mind first.”

“Really?” I tease, pressing my breasts against his hard chest.

He skims his lips over my throat, softly sucking and kissing, finally finding my mouth. Our breaths mingle and dance together. My hips move in a mindless circle.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans, pulling away from our kiss. His hands travel over my back, hooking over my shoulders, holding me tight.

“See.” I buck my hips.

A noise deep in his throat rumbles between us. His rough fingers yank and tug at my underwear. I’ll have to lift myself to get them off but I don’t want to separate our bodies even for a second.

He gives up on the underwear, cupping my breasts and rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. He sucks one into his mouth, teasing with his tongue. My hips jerk in a frantic plea for him to give me what I want.

He drops his hand between us, slipping his fingers in my underwear and sliding them through my slit. “Fuck, you’re wet.”