Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

Shameless, my hands were.

Greedy too, as my fingers found smoothness, knowing they were scars, and unable to do anything but stroke over them.

He made that noise again as he grabbed my lower lip between his teeth, biting hard, as his hand moved from the wall and slid down my back, grabbing my ass firmly through my dress, and dragging my softer body against his harder one.

And I mean hard.

His heavy jean material was hardly managing to contain his straining cock.

As if knowing exactly how wanton I was that minute, his hand slipped slightly from my ass so that it was hauling up my thigh, then ground himself against me.

My mouth tore from his, an almost pained cry escaping my lips as my head angled up, looking into the dark, star-riddled sky. Taking the opportunity, the delicious scrape of his scruff burned across the column of my neck. If I thought that was intoxicating, though, it was nothing compared to his lips closing in on that sensitive flesh and sucking gently. Not enough to create a mark, but enough to make me seriously reconsider if I had ever been truly turned on before in my life. Because nothing, literally nothing, had ever come close to this.

So when he released my ass, grabbing my hip, and slamming me back against the unyielding wall, and his hand started bunching up my floor length skirt, I didn't even consider thinking it over, making the 'smart' decision.

I just let him expose my skin to the humid night air.

I just let his other hand hold up the whole of my maxi skirt as his other whispered up my thigh.

My head slammed back into the wall as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, a strange heaviness taking over my chest and lower stomach.

I finally understood the term- clawing need.

Because that was how it felt. It felt like being ripped apart with the desire for something that you needed as much as your next breath.

And as his teeth bit into my neck, his fingers pressed against my panties, making an almost shrill moan escape me as my head slammed forward, burying into his neck.

He didn't pause.

He didn't ask if it was alright.

Because, quite frankly, he didn't need to.

Everything in my reaction was giving him permission to move his hand up, to slide under the waistband of my panties, and to stroke his fingers up my slick heat.

"Mmm," he growled against my ear as his thumb found my clit, causing that somewhat shaky sensation in my thigh muscles to become actual quivering that made my arms slide up his back and hold on hard to his shoulders, sure that they might give out at any moment. "Fuck yeah, you better hold on tight, pet. This is about to get a fuckuva lot better." With that, his thumb pressed my clit, and two fingers slid down and thrust inside me, causing the seemingly inevitable muscle failure in my thighs, leaving me clinging to him.

This in no way hindered him as he pressed me harder against the wall and finger fucked me rougher than I knew it was possible to, the thrusts unrelenting and hard as his thumb remained a constant presence on my clit.

Then, just as the fog of desire started to clear, allowing a tiny sliver of doubt to sashay in, as if he somehow even sensed the transition, his fingers stopped thrusting, curled inside me, and started raking over my G-spot with the exact perfect pressure.

It was all of maybe four strokes before the orgasm completely crashed through my system, breaking apart everything inside as I cried out into his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, my entire body seeming to do a strange, out of control shaking thing for a long minute as the waves washed through me.

I came back down slowly. His fingers slid out of me, pulling my skirt back down. As for me, well, I maybe clung to him for a long time, face buried in his neck, hands still digging into his flesh. My heart was a hummingbird's wings. My air felt compressed in my chest, making each indrawn breath labored, almost painful.

And it was right about then that the common sense and sanity I had been seeking when I stopped at the gates came crashing back into my system, making me uncomfortably aware of what I had just done.

I got fingered by a man whose name I didn't know.

Who I had only met all of an hour before.

Who was a gun-running biker.

Who wouldn't remember me in a day.

Oh, God.

Had I truly sunk so low?

And, I mean, I thought I knew low. I had been at rock bottom for a long while, almost comfortable with the fact that there was no further to sink. Then a goddamn trap door opened beneath me and let me slip just a little further down.