West (The Henchmen MC 19)

Standing between my spread legs, his hands shivered up my sides, over my ribs, behind my back, finding the clasps to my bra, making short work of them, then pulling the purple barrier away, tossing it down on the floor.

His hands covered my breasts, fingers snagging my hardened nipples, twisting them to painful peaks, sending a flood of desire through my system.

My back arched, pressing my breasts closer, feeling the burn as he did another twist. Harder. Tighter. Cutting off the circulation for a second, making the blood rush back a moment later, pulsing and unexpected, making my thighs clamp onto the sides of his hips, trying to do another grind against him, but he pulled just far enough back to discourage it.

A whimpering noise escaped me, making his lips curl up, pleased with himself.

His hand lifted, moving behind my neck, working my hair tie free, fingers slipping into the strands, curling, pulling. Hard enough to make pain prickle across my scalp, making my head jerk back, easing the sting, even as my need grew even stronger.

My breath started to come faster, more ragged, my hands gripping the edge of the washing machine as his head ducked again, teeth sinking into my neck.

His hand released my neck, fingers sinking into my hips instead, turning me so I was sitting off the side- not the front- of the machine. I didn't know why until I felt his hands press into my shoulders, pushing me back against the row of washers.

His fingers slipped down my collarbones, covering my breasts, squeezing, then blazing a trail downward, fingers snagging my pants and panties, dragging them down.

Grabbing my knees, he guided them over my shoulders, bending down, and closing his lips around my throbbing clit, sucking it hard and deep.

The orgasm slammed through my system unexpectedly, stealing my air, making my hands slap down hard on the machines, every muscle in my body tensing at once.

"Fuck," I hissed as the waves started to ebb, giving me a chance to suck in a greedy breath.

"Nope," West said when I tried to sit up, one hand pressing into my shoulder, holding me flat. "Not done," he added, two fingers thrusting inside of me, turning, curling, raking over my top wall.

It was impossible.

To come off one orgasm and immediately start falling into another.

At least, that had been my experience.

But his fingers were raking over my G-Spot as his head dipped again, tongue moving over my clit.

"West... wait... I..." I wasn't even sure what I was trying to say, what there could possibly be to object to. All I knew was that this felt oddly too much. Too big. Too overwhelming.

But before I could even think to try to pull away, his finger curled again, his tongue slid, and an orgasm —bigger, stronger—tore through my system violently.

I wasn't cognizant of doing so, but by the time I came back into my mind again, I had pushed West away, turned onto my side, curled my legs into my chest, and had a death-grip on West's arm.

"Breathe, babe," he demanded.

I was about to snap at him that Of Course I was breathing, only to realize my chest felt tight, my head fuzzy.

I sucked in a slow breath that shook through my chest, giving me back some clarity, connecting my head back to my body.

"Still not done," he told me, lips curling up with what I could only call male satisfaction.

And, fuck it, the man earned that look.

"My legs are Jell-O," I declared, finding they didn't want to respond to demands.

"Luckily, your short ass makes it possible for us not to need them," he told me.

Then, without any other warning, his hands grabbed me, pulled me, flipped me so that my breasts crushed to the cold metal of the washing machine, my hands grabbing the edge of the next one over as my hips hung off the side, legs dangling.

I could feel West moving in behind me, could hear the zip sliding down, the condom being ripped open.

His hand landed on my ass cheek hard enough to make me jolt upward.

Before I could even adjust to the heated sting left in its wake, his cock was slamming deep inside me, claiming every inch of me with one stroke, dragging a choked moan from deep in my chest.

His hands dug into my hips as he started fucking me. Hard, fast, deep.

It wasn't long before my body came alive again, my legs cooperating.

I pushed myself backward, feeling my feet hit the ground, allowing me to straighten, my arm going up and around the back of West's neck, holding on as his pace slowed, hips rocking into me. Slow, steady, passionate. Almost, well, loving.

I wasn't a loving kind of woman.

I liked my sex hard and fast and emotionless.

Yet there was no denying the fact that my system was betraying me, moving with his pace, my moans turning to throaty whimpers.