Everyone was quiet for a beat. None of us was married, and therefore, none of us really knew the answer to that question. I decided I would call Maja, Buck’s Old Lady and resident biker bitch guru, to hash things out.
“I think no matter what, it’s important to remember the obvious. King loves you. Never seen a man love a woman so much and so openly as that boy loves his Queenie,” Tayline stated, curled up like a kitten with her head on Benny’s lap while he stroked her short hair. “You have a man who isn’t afraid to let you know every day how much you’re loved, and I think that’s even better than a marriage certificate.”
“Preach,” Benny agreed softly.
I had to agree with them, which was why, as I started to get back to work shelving the last of the books in the many rows of dark oak bookshelves, I felt ill at ease and almost ashamed of my lingering desire for more. Was I being greedy and ungrateful for wanting a ring and a ceremony when I already had more love than any one person should ever be entitled to?
I was still mulling it over as I trailed my fingers over the books in the non-fiction section, letting the soft bindings and beautiful spines calm me. So I was not prepared when I pushed a book onto the shelf and something caught my sleeve from the other side.
I gasped, then tugged to free it, thinking the fabric was caught on a book, but then fingers wrapped around my wrist and tugged back, so that I was forced up against the shelf. Before I could struggle again, the hand was gone and a low chuckle wound around the corner of the stacks like tendrils of smoke.
Seconds later, a long, hard body was pressing me to the bookcase.
“’S your Prince Charming come to life,” King murmured, voice light and full of laughter as he nuzzled into my neck.
“You scared me,” I scolded, but I was already losing breath to the desire burning up my core, and my voice was weak because of it. “What are you doing here?”
“Was in the neighborhood and missed my woman, so I thought I’d drop in and steal a kiss…or two.”
King’s rough fingertips skimmed along the side of my jaw and moved my thick sheets of hair over my shoulder to leave my neck bare to his questing kisses.
“Fuck, always smell so good,” he moaned as he dragged his nose down my throat and the other hand wrapped around my opposite side to dive beneath my jeans and play at the top of my satin panties. “Feel so fuckin’ good too. Can’t ever take my hands off ya.”
“I don’t want you to,” I admitted. “The second you touch me, I want more.”
“I know. Can feel it in the skip of your pulse just here.” He tongued my neck where my heart beat like a percussion drum. “Feel it in the furl of your nipples.” His hand skated up my belly to my breast where he tweaked the peak with strong, relentless fingers and then arrowed it back down my jeans to frame my swollen clit between two fingers. “Feel it in the way you throb for me so damn quick. Tell me, babe, if I dipped a finger beneath these pretty satin panties, would you be soaked with want for me?”
My head fell back to his shoulder, lips parted on a long exhale as if there wasn’t any more room in my body for air, only the hot weight of heady desire.
“Yes, but honey, everyone is up front helping out. We can’t play back here.”
I knew the moment I said it, it was the wrong way to handle the situation.
You see, it never did any good to say “no” to a biker when he wanted you. They always found a way to sway your opinion in the end.
King nipped my earlobe, then trailed love bites down my neck until he reached that delicate junction of my neck and shoulder, and then he bit into me and held on with his teeth as his fingers skated down the placket of my underwear and swept underneath. I moaned despite myself as two long fingers sank inside me and curled, pressing against my tight walls, making me ache and wriggle in his intractable hold.
“King,” I breathed, half plea and protest.
“You want me to stop, babe? ’Cause I can feel you rippling around my fingers and soaking my palm. I don’t think you care that anyone’s in the store. I know my dirty girl likes the thrill of getting found out.”
I panted, too focused on the way his thumb began to strum my clit to protest, especially because what he said was true. It was exhilarating to think that someone might stumble upon us, me pressed between the books and King’s body like a drying flower, his big hand palming my pussy, making obscene wet noises as he played with me and I moaned for him. I loved the idea of people knowing how quickly I dissolved for him, like water to a sugar cube gone sweet and wet at his touch.