Bull (Kings of Mayhem MC 6)

When he lowered me to my feet, his forehead dropped to mine. “What are you doing to me?” He breathed desperately. He pulled back to look me in the eye, and I saw the need in his. The need for me. The need for something other than his lust for revenge. “I don’t have a single rule left when it comes to you.”

My fingers laced around the nape of his neck. “Forget about him for tonight. Forget about everything.”

I stepped out of my camisole, loving the flare of heat in his eyes as he drank me in.

“Just be here with me,” I whispered, lovingly removing his clothes and feeling the excitement as his big body shivered against my touch.

Climbing onto the bed, I pulled him down to me and spent the rest of the night replacing his frustration and anger with ecstasy and pleasure.

TAYLOR

I didn’t see him for days. Since the cabin explosion, a somber mood had settled across the clubhouse. Something was brewing. Something big. But no one was saying anything.

Bull was gone from the clubhouse, a lot. He was nearly always out when I arrived for my shift, and usually didn’t return before I finished.

Away from him, I spent time with Noah, but he was rarely at home, preferring to hang with Luke and Shelby at Roberta’s. It left me with a lot of spare time to think over the things Bull had confessed to me the night of the explosion.

About the hit.

About the man who had ordered Chastity’s assault.

It made me feel sick.

Scared.

It made me want to tell him about my past.

About who I had been.

What I was running from.

Because he had let another wall down by opening up to me, and I felt like I should do the same.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

There was too much at stake.

I could lose Noah if I did.

When Bull finally rode his Harley into my driveway, I had missed him so much, I was ready to pounce. After days of not seeing him or being able to touch him, my body was tight with need, my head desperate for the distraction only he could give me.

“Fuck, I’ve missed how you feel,” he moaned, after I’d launched myself at him as he walked through the front door.

“I need you naked and in my bed,” I rasped against his lips.

He kissed me fiercely in response, but then broke away.

“Little bird, I’m dying to be in that tight little pussy of yours, but I desperately need a shower.”

I led him through the apartment to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. “Make it quick.”

I waited for him on the bed, my body tense and needy, my stomach knotted with excitement. I heard the shower turn off. Heard the glass door open and then close. Felt the warm flush of anticipation creep along my skin and an achy throb take up between my naked thighs. It had been days.

He appeared in the doorway. Naked and gleaming, his inky black hair damp.

I hungrily watched him approach the bed.

Bull dressed in his black clothes and wearing a cut was spectacular.

But Bull completely naked was something else altogether.

He was magnificent.

I raked my eyes up his body. It was thick with muscle and without an ounce of excess weight anywhere. Shoulders were wide. His chest was broad and cut like a sculpture. Abdominal muscles were deep grooves in his belly as he moved.

And his cock. Even soft, it was heavy and thick, and it swung as he came toward me.

My ravenous eyes swept over the flawless flesh and the tattoos that covered his arms and chest.

As he came closer, I noticed the notches tattooed over his hip bone. They seemed out of place in comparison to the intricate artwork of his other tattoos. They were darker, almost crude and amateurish. I swiped my thumb across them. One looked fresher than the others. I counted them. There were six in total.

“These are different than your other tattoos,” I said, my fingers brushing over his warm skin.

“Yes.”

“What do they represent?” I asked, fascinated by them.

But Bull pulled me to my feet so he could kiss me, in an attempt to draw my attention away from them.

“Things you don’t want to know about.”

But my inquisitive mind couldn’t let go. My fingertips skated down to them, my gaze following. Between us, he was growing hard.

“Are they people you lost?” My eyes slid up to his. “Or people you made disappear.”

A shadow darkened in his eyes as he searched my face, looking for a sign. Trying to gauge my reaction. “They’re a reminder,” he said.

“Of what?”

“Of who I am.”

He trembled beneath my touch as my thumb slid across the inked lines. When I lifted my eyes, I saw he was looking at me intently.

He was very still. “Is that okay?”

I held his burning gaze. “You never have to ask me that. I know who you are.”